


Love and Necrogamy

by mordelle



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Smut, Lemon, Light Angst, Marriage of Convenience, Sexual Humor, Unofficial Sequel, What-If, a bit of kink bdsm for laughs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordelle/pseuds/mordelle
Summary: At seventeen years old, Lydia Deetz found herself engaged to a six-hundred-thirty-seven-year-old poltergeist. Even though she did little to stop the ceremony, her family tried their damnedest to get rid of their dangerous and unwanted rescuer before he could seal the deal. And they did. Or so they thought. (COMPLETE. Post-film. Movie-verse with Cartoon shoutouts)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deliriumrei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deliriumrei/gifts).



> I recently did a giveaway in celebration of Neither Here Nor There's 100+ kudos! The winner of the giveaway was Deliriumrei! They chose a "drabble" as their gift! But, because I have no self-control, this is now a mini fic. I'm now juggling 3 fics yet again. ::DEEP SIGH:: Anyway, I hope to finish this soon and I thought that posting the first chapter would motivate me to finish it ASAP. So, comment and tell me what you think of the first chapter so far! 
> 
> This is the prompt that was sent to me by the winner: She knew it was a dangerous game. But she wanted to know. No, she NEEDED to know. She could always feel it. Something coiled up inside him, ready to strike. And she wanted all of him. "Don't hold anything back, Beej."
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Beetlejuice.

****At seventeen years old, Lydia Deetz found herself engaged to a six-hundred-thirty-seven-year-old poltergeist. Though she had accepted the deal willingly at the time to save her new ghost parents, she had not intended to go through with it at all. Even though she did little to stop the ceremony, her family tried their damnedest to get rid of their dangerous and unwanted rescuer before he could seal the deal. And they did. Or so they thought.

Unfortunately for the teenage bride, the officiate had performed the ceremony to its completion. The words "I now pronounce you Ghost and Wife" had gone unheard by pretty much everyone in the room. Let's face it, when there is a giant sandworm crashing through your living room, it's hard to pay attention to whatever else is going on. All had retired for the evening after the tumultuous affair and were on their way to a not-so-blissful sleep until  Lydia's bloodcurdling scream had everyone racing to her room. They found her in her black, bulky nightgown hopping up and down in a panic, and pulling on her finger like she was ready to be free of the appendage altogether.

"It won't come off!" She yelled, wide-eyed with her cheeks streaked with sweat and tears.

After calming the poor girl down, it was evident she was referring to the simple, gold wedding band that the vile villain had managed to slip on her ring finger before being fed to the Saturn giant. Each guardian tried their best to pull the forsaken thing off the goth girl. They tried soap. They tried baby oil. They tried ice. They tried engine oil. They even tried Delia's homemade, organic,  vaginal lubricant that she claimed could rehydrate the Sahara. Nothing worked. They all decided it was too soon to be making conjectures. Delia suggested that Lydia lose a few pounds - just enough to wriggle the offensive thing free. No one had any other suggestions, so Lydia got herself on a strict diet - not that she was very hungry anyway. Finding yourself to be an unwilling, underaged bride can sort of squelch your appetite.  Barbara took it upon herself to stay in Lydia's room every night, just in case.

Matters only worsened when one morning both a marriage certificate naming Lydia Deetz as Wife and Betelgeuse Horeson as Husband, and a Handbook for the Recently Married to the Deceased showed up on Lydia's vanity. While Lydia took the news with silent defeat, Barbara had a complete meltdown. As her ghostly godparents charged for the Afterlife Waiting room to appeal on her behalf, Lydia sauntered off to the local cemetery and brooded.  

It had been a whole month. She had been married an entire month, but her grimy, gross husband had not come to claim her. She wondered if he was still being digested. She paced the graveyard for hours while she read her new manual on being a dead man's wife. Twisting the ring on her finger as she pondered on the endless scenarios her dark imaginings could come up with, she decided to end her misery by confronting the source of her anxiety. With newfound knowledge and courage, she went home, climbed upstairs, locked herself in her room, and waited for the witching hour. Adam and Barbara had still not returned, and Delia tried to be motherly by asking her stepdaughter if she needed her to sleep the night with her, which Lydia denied emphatically.

The house was finally quiet and midnight rolled around. Lydia touched the cool glass of her vanity mirror. Saying his name once would establish a connection, like dialling a phone number, but he would have control over answering the call. She didn't want that. Saying his name twice while touching a reflective surface would summon him to that specific object, and doing so at the time of the witching hour would give her complete control over the summons. Uttering his name three times, well, it could be deduced accurately what might happen then.

She inhaled deeply and steadily. "Betelgeuse." Her wedding band glowed green, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. "Betelgeuse." The surface of the mirror fogged over, completely obscuring any reflection. She waited, but the fog did not clear. Another long moment passed until she heard the sound of a finger gliding on moist glass beneath her hand. She removed her hand quickly and watched in awe as letters spelt themselves crudely on the mirror.

**HI, POOKIE.**

Lydia nearly gagged at the pet name, but her panic started to build effectively taking over her disgust. She'd made contact. "Where are you?"

**HERE. A-DUH.**

"Why can't I see you?" She asked suspiciously.

The fog danced on the surface silently until it began to clear enough to reveal a pair of smug blue eyes encircled by black. "Didn't think you wanted to see me, sweetums. Lookin' a little..." his hand appeared and motioned at her up and down, "traumatized." He chuckled, and his hand disappeared.

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and gave the ghost a challenging look. "I'm just fine. Show yourself."

The poltergeist let out a chortle, and the fog vanished, revealing the merry looking dead guy dressed in swim trunks. And that was it. His mossy, black-stained chest was bare along with his protruding beer belly, and he had a little cocktail umbrella tucked behind one ear. His hair still looked like a matted mess, but it was damp and hung low on his shoulders. He was sitting on a beach chair and looking very much like the first time they'd met - not counting the snake encounter, of course.

"That's not what our little bond tells me," he smiled and raised his left hand. His wedding ring gave off a small green glow as hers had when she first called him.

The raven-haired teenager could barely keep her bored expression in place as she realized that he meant he could sense her distress.

"So!" He slapped his bare, moldy knee hard and leaned forward. "'Sup?"

Utterly amazed, Lydia shook her head. "What's up?" She said with disbelief. "What's up?! We're married. That's what's up!"

Betelgeuse splayed his hands before him and looked around before giving Lydia a confused quirk of his brow. "Yeah? That was the deal wasn' it? I save yer friends, you set me free?"

Lydia furrowed her brow and began to pace. "So, you are _free_ , then?"

The poltergeist grinned wide and sat back, crossing his ankle over his knee. "Free as a bat at dusk, babe."

She caught a quick glimpse of something she did not want to see hanging in the gap of his bathing suit between his legs. "Ugh," she scowled and averted her gaze, "so we're square then?" She asked with impatience. "Are you done terrorizing people?"

Betelgeuse scratched the inside of his ear, then ate whatever he had pulled out. "I"m a freelance bio-exorcist. Terrorizing people is my job. And I'm very good at my job." He gave her a mischievous grin. "As you're well aware."

Lydia scoffed but silently agreed with him. "What I mean is, are you done terrorizing _us_. Me. My family?"

The mossy ghost looked amused as he gave Lydia a slow once-over. "Sure," he said with mild sincerity. "For now, anyway." He exposed his filthy, blackened overbite again with a snicker.

The goth girl plopped down on her bed and buried her face in her hands with defeat. "What have I done?" She breathed with quiet despair.

Betelgeuse rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. "Look, kid. You called me right outta my vacation, ‘kay? I haven't done anything but enjoy some time under the Hawaiian sun. So, don't beat yerself up just yet. I've been a good boy." His eyes shifted in his sockets with uncertainty. "Unless you count what've been doin' under the sheets if ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Lydia looked up and studied the ghoul trapped in her mirror. He did not seem as menacing, manic, or dangerous as when they parted ways. "You're on vacation? In Hawaii." She almost couldn't believe it.  "What happens when you get bored with that?"

He shrugged. "Well, I uh, go back to work," he replied simply. "Gotta provide for my little ball and chain." He winked at her.

She scoffed. "Consider yourself relieved from that duty." She eyed him a moment longer. "The handbook says we will be audited to make sure the marriage wasn't a fraud to get your papers."

Betelgeuse waved away her comment. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over that. I'll know when they're comin' to check up on us. I'll call ya, then you summon me, we answer a few questions, act like we're in love, badabing, no one will be the wiser."

Lydia felt a strange surge of bravery as she stood and sauntered closer to the mirror. "What if I say no?"

A darkness clouded over Betelgeuse's eyes as he gave her a hooded gaze. "We made a deal," he said with a mirthless smile.

She decided to ignore the warning in his tone. "Yeah, but I didn't know I had to see you again and again for the rest of my life. It's inconvenient."

"As I said it would be," he retorted condescendingly. He relaxed a bit and clicked his tongue. "But I get yer point. Ya know, being married to me _does_ have its perks," he said sleazily while he waggled his eyebrows.

"Ew. Not interested," Lydia bit back with disgust.

Betelgeuse's face fell into a bored expression. "For once, I didn't mean it like that." He did — a little. "I mean," he amended, "not everyone has a talented, personal poltergeist they can whip outta their back pocket whenever they want. Think of me like a genie or somethin' like that. Shit, I'll even give ya three wishes."

Lydia considered the ghost's words. She could think of several instances in her past where a poltergeist could have been very useful. With school starting soon, she wondered if she'd make new enemies in her senior year. Plus, there was one thing she wanted more than anything that only a ghost could help her with. She had been biding her time to ask the favor of Adam and Barbara, but part of her already knew it was too great a favor to ask of them. If he wasn't going to bother her or her family, she could keep their deal a secret and use him when or if she needed to.

"Unlimited wishes and we have a deal," she bargained with a smirk.

"Five," he haggled back.

"A hundred thousand."

He stood up, scrunched up his face and shook his head. "Unlucky thirteen, my final offer," he grated through clenched teeth.

Thirteen was probably more than enough, Lydia thought. "Deal."

The poltergeist let out his famous, wild cackle. "You got it, Lyds. Now, if ya don't mind, I was about to work on my tan line before ya called. We good?"

Lydia bit her lip before answering. "I have a wish."

Betelgeuse let out a loud phlegmy sigh of impatience. "Already?" He shook his head, then sat back down in his chair. "Fine. Spit it out."

"I want you to find my mother," she mumbled quickly. "I have, um, a letter." The ball of nerves sat at her vanity, uncomfortable with his proximity despite the barrier, and pulled out her letter from a drawer. "Can you give it to her?"

The poltergeist snapped his fingers, and the letter glowed green before its astral copy was sucked out into the portal before her and into his hand. He read it right in front of her without a care.

"Well, don't read it!" She outraged.

Betelgeuse let out a whistle, folded the letter, and tucked it who-knows-where behind him. "That was awkward," he muttered before clapping his hands together, enthusiastically, "you got it, honey." With a pop, he was suddenly floating in the air dressed as some corpse version of the genie from I Dream of Jeannie.  "Your wish is my command," he said in a scratchy feminine voice. He crossed his arms, gave an exaggerated nod and a blink, and then he was gone.

The mirror returned to normal as soon as he vanished, which left Lydia unnerved. She followed the instructions to trap him in the mirror, yet he was able to leave before the Witching Hour had ended. He shouldn't have been able to do that. She wasn't sure what was scarier. Him having more power than she realized, or the visual of him in a belly dancer's outfit with curves in all the wrong places.

* * *

 

Even after losing seven pounds, the ring would not come off. It should have been enough. Lydia decided to end her fruitless diet and also turned down other ludicrous ideas of being taken to the emergency room or a mechanic to get it removed. Barbara and Adam returned after four months with unfortunate news as well. Juno reminded them that their vouchers had been depleted and even if they still had one, the caseworker could do nothing.

"But," Barbara amended, "Juno said that there would most likely be a visit from some auditors!" She exclaimed with joy. Her smile fell. "Except we don't know when they'll come or who they'll be."

Adam adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "So, it could be as early as tonight!"

"Or when I'm eighty," Lydia replied dryly.

The married couple gave each other a guilty frown.  "Well, I don't think it'll be that long..." "Possibly..." They responded in unison.

Lydia shook her head and started to giggle. She gave everyone a thumbs up and turned to leave. "Going to my room now."

Barbara went to place a comforting hand on her. "I'll be right up to--"

"No, no. I don't need you to sleep in my room anymore," Lydia responded with boredom.

"But what if he comes back?" Adam retorted. "Your birthday is in a few days! What if he," the ghost stopped short when Barbara placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from saying what he was going to say next, "comes back," he muttered.

Lydia knew what he was implying. She would be eighteen in three days, and they worried if Betelgeuse would come to try and consummate the marriage. She shrugged and giggled mirthlessly again while she sauntered up to her room. She wasn't too disturbed about their theory. When she last saw the poltergeist, he did not seem eager or even concerned with trying to claim her as his actual wife. In fact, he appeared annoyed she'd even called him. Plus, she hadn’t seen or heard from him since she summoned him that one night. When Lydia entered her room, she found a box on her bed with a note.

**STUDY UP, BUTTERCUP. -B**

She tore the box open thinking it was something to do with her mother, but instead she found numerous pages in a stack. She flipped through some of the pages and realized it was all written accounts about Betelgeuse. The further she dug through the papers, the older the pages looked. At one point she found parchment written in what appeared to be Old English or some other language.

"What the hell?" Lydia scoured through more papers until she tossed everything back in and charged for her vanity. “Betelgeuse-Betelgeuse!”

The mirror took no time at all to reveal the poltergeist in a hideous plaid suit, his hair combed over with thick gel, and he was sporting sunglasses. His arms were opened to his sides as if they had just been curled around a waist each. Startled to find his evening prizes gone, Betelgeuse jumped back and wildly looked around. “Where’d ya go?! Come on, I thought we were havin’ a good time!” His search led his gaze to Lydia. “Aw, shit,” he deflated, kicked at the ground, then changed his tune. “Hey there, little missus,” he crooned affectionately, “got questions for your dear ol’ hubby?”

“Why did you leave your unintelligible biography on my bed?” She asked in a hushed whisper.

Betelgeuse motioned to the sky for patience. “For the audit, dear,” he drawled. “You need to know some things about me if we’re gonna sell this sham.”

Lydia perked up at the mention of the audit. “Are they coming?”

“No, but you should be ready for when they do, because it will happen. Could be tomorrow, could be when you’re eighty. Who knows. Better safe than screwed though.”

The teenager fumed for a moment. “Why should play along when you haven’t even granted my first wish yet?”

Betelgeuse puffed out his chest and placed his fists on his hips. “Hey! I did too!” He defended. “What did you want a certified return receipt?!”

Lydia sunk in on herself and dropped into her chair. He had delivered the letter and her mother never replied. “How long ago?”

Outraged, Betelgeuse stomped on the ground and pointed a finger at her. “Right after I left ya! I keep my end of deals, kid. You should know that by now,” he barked. The ghost could tell she was down in the dumps and he couldn’t have her natural inclination toward melancholy get the better of her. For the sake of his freedom, he would not allow her to go off the deep end just because her mother was an asshole. “Hey-hey, listen,” he consoled as he raised his hands in supplication, “forget that broad, okay? You wouldn’t even like her, honestly. Can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but the red-headed-medusa is a better mommy figure for ya anyway. Plus, ya got the Sandworm cowgirl on your side now.”

The goth teenager couldn’t help the smirk that curled up on her lips at the nicknames the poltergeist had given her parental figures. “You’ve got to be joking,” she snickered.

Betelgeuse removed his sunglasses then crossed his heart. “I wouldn’t lie ta ya, babes.”

“I think you would,” she retorted playfully.

He nodded his head. “Yeah, well, not about this. I’d call your mom a cunt but she lacks the warmth and depth.”

She bit back a laugh. “You know I’m a child right?” Lydia jabbed.

Betelgeuse rolled his eyes and gave her the okay sign. “Lucky for you, you’ll magically turn into an adult in three days,” he mocked, “you can appreciate my humor then.”

Lydia gulped down her sudden distress. He knew her eighteenth birthday was fast approaching.

The poltergeist scrutinized her brief but apparent displeasure. He was quick to deduce the problem. He chuckled. “All right, babe, I’ve got some bets to place on some crap tables, so unless you have another wish ready, I gotta hit it.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Well, there _is_ this girl named Claire…”

A sleazy grin spread wide on his face. “Go _on_.”

Lydia spent her birthday week in complete bliss. She had been pampered by her family, and Claire was out of school because she had scabies. The evening of her birthday was somewhat awkward. The Maitlands and her parents stayed up with her until midnight, of course, they never mentioned the reasoning behind their motives but Lydia knew. Midnight came and went and Betelgeuse made no appearance. When Barbara finally left Lydia’s room the goth girl locked her door with a sigh of relief. There was a sudden rush and a green glow that came from her vanity. Lydia whirled around fully expecting Betelgeuse to be standing smack in the middle of her room in one of his ridiculous getups holding onto a bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates and a perverted smirk plastered on his face. What she found was a flat, velvet black box with an elaborate red bow. She looked at her mirror for signs of her husband, but he was not there. She approached her gift with caution and gingerly untied the bow. When she lifted the lid, Lydia gasped. Delicately, she grazed her fingers on the finest red fabric she’d ever seen. She pulled it out of the box and raised it before her. A red and black spiderweb poncho that was perfect for her size. She would have scoffed and tossed it aside, it was something she’d never wear, but when she glanced at her mirror she couldn’t help but smile. She shook her head, folded her gift and placed it back in the case. She hid it with all the other things that were from him, everything she wore on their farce of a wedding and his biography were carefully tucked away in a steamer trunk with a false bottom. Just in case he could hear or see her she decided to be polite.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

No reply came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @darkphilosophe13 for the cunt joke. lol  
> Thank you @luvthephantom for reading this over and the encouragement!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until next week to post this but there is so much hate out there rn that I thought I'd make someone smile.
> 
> Just a small thing to be aware of, my Grammarly is set to British English because I'm writing a Harry Potter fic and it's a hassle to switch back an forth so, if you see some spelling inconsistencies, it's because of that. 
> 
> And just putting this out there: if there are any Brits reading this who wouldn't mind me picking your brain about phrasing and colloquialisms, please let me know! I do as much research as I can but if I don't know what I'm looking for, then it can be tough sometimes. I apologize for it in advance though. :) 
> 
> So, you'll see I've recycled some names from my other fic. Similar HC's too. Because I'm lazy. lol
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments!

Life went on as usual as could be for a haunted teenager. She had made a pair of amazing friends, and she had landed a scholarship in NYU. Two times out of the year, she would receive a gift that she safely assumed was from her "dearly departed" husband; on her birthday and their anniversary. To her surprise, it was always something specific and very much to her liking. He never sent her clothes again but did gift her with things that were useful. Once, he sent a vintage camera with old film that gave her notoriety in her photography classes. Another time he sent her an antique sewing machine, which was conveniently around the time she started to dabble in costuming. She especially liked the case filled with unique, old-fashioned buttons and other accessories to adorn her custom clothing. When their second anniversary rolled around, she was actually excited to find a small gift under her pillow. Within was a spider brooch, a tiny emerald in each eye.

Lydia thought about hiding it away, but it was so lovely, she started wearing it. She assumed all her gifts were stolen, but her theory didn't bother her. He never left a note or a card, and she wondered if he ever expected her to reciprocate or show gratitude. Fat chance. In the end, she chalked his gifts up to guilting her into letting him keep his freedom. Lydia had no intention of betraying him. It wasn't like their marriage had any negative consequences thus far. He never bothered her, she assumed she was free to date whoever she wanted, had eleven wishes left, she got some useful gifts out of it, and - strangely - no one ever noticed the ring on her finger. Lydia had sworn that her ring was visible to everyone and people were just polite in not bringing it up. She had expected guys to run as soon as their eyes landed on her ring finger, but no one ever said a word. Not wanting to jinx it, Lydia never tested fate by bringing attention to it. Although the dating scene in college was dismal, she did finally fall in love... with the wrong guy. Six months into the relationship that started way too quickly and deeply, he finally went too far.

With a broken hand, Lydia held onto her wedding ring with a mixture of dread and rage. "Betelgeuse-Betelgeuse!" Even though two and half years had passed without speaking to her husband in name, he was quick to answer her call.

"Who do I hafta kill?" He growled on the reflective surface of her wedding band. She was too shaken to speak further, and her panic kept her from thinking clearly. She didn't know what to wish for. Power surged from the ring into her hand. "Go ahead," he tempted while she panted from within the fragile safety of her boyfriend's bathroom, "use it." The ring glowed an ominous green, and her hand began to tingle.

The door was kicked open, and without hesitation, Lydia landed a punch to the douchebags nuts that sent him crashing through the opposite wall. Then she ran. The ring fueled her steps all the way to her dorm and into the safety of her roommates embraces.

Once the effects of Betelgeuse's power dissipated, she broke down. Even when Bertha and Prudence weren't in the room, she could sense she was being watched. The entire family rallied to help her, and the authorities apprehended the asshole after his stay at the hospital. The power that had coursed through her had been exquisite, and she knew it had only been a fraction of Betelgeuse's essence. She had felt raw strength and undiluted confidence in a way she never felt before, and it had all ended too soon.

Weeks later, when she could feel her husbands gaze on her, she spoke aloud. "Thank you," she whispered into the dark.

"Countin' that as a wish," he grumbled through their shared bond and then he was gone.

Lydia took some time off and went back to Winter River. The first thing she did, even before unpacking, was to open the box containing her ghostly husbands past. She began her study of him in earnest. The more she read, the more riveted and curious she became. Apparently, he had many dealings with the living as a bio-exorcist. It was a legitimate occupation, through loopholes, of course, that he had finagled his way into as his way to pay off his debt to the afterlife. She didn't understand what debt they referred to in the paperwork, but before his freelancing days, he had worked as a Guide for the New Arrivals Department. His job, it seemed, was to assist the caseworker in arranging their afterlife affairs. Again, she didn't exactly know what that meant.

Barbara found her hunched over a mess of papers, handbooks, and a dictionary. "What's all this?" Barbara bent over and picked up the oldest looking page. When she saw the name Betelgeuse, she started to panic. "Oh no."

Lydia clamored to stand and ripped the page from her hands. "Don't freak out," she held her hands up in defence. Before Barbara could say another word, Lydia blurted out everything that she had kept secret for almost three years.

The ghost had to sit down and process her shock. She asked whatever questions came to mind and was angry with her goddaughter for keeping such a secret. It could have backfired on her. He could have hurt her. Instead, he ended up saving her life. "He didn't do it for you," she finally let out with a knowing nod. "He obviously needs you alive. I bet he goes right back to the other side once you…" she couldn't finish her depressing thought. "You can't trust him."

Lydia felt a small pang in her gut at Barbara's biting words. "Yeah, I know."

Barbara motioned at the mess on the ground. "So, what's all this for? Looking for a loophole out of your contact?" She hoped.

The goth pursed her lips with guilt. "Um. No." She turned away from her ghostly parent and cast her eyes to the ground. "No, I'm holding up my end of the deal. I didn't care before, you know, before what happened. I figured the auditors would figure it out and take care of things without my help, but now," she sighed and put on a brave face, "I'm going through with it. So, please" she finally turned to Barbara once more, "do me a favor and play along if, well, if they ever do come."

Barbara shook her head. "I can't do that."

Lydia held up her casted arm. "You see this?" Her voice shook with emotion. "This would have been a lot worse."

The ghost grimaced and slammed her fists on her lap. "You still don't owe him anything."

"I get that. I do. But I don't feel that way. Plus, Dave is not the kind of guy to let this go. I've ruined him." She shuddered every time she thought of how he would get revenge. "Barbara," Lydia pleaded, "we're going to have a family meeting, and I need you on my side. Not his. Mine."

After some tears and embraces, Barbara begrudgingly accepted Lydia's request. That evening, everyone was informed, and although there was outrage and yelling amongst the lot of them, in the end, they were all on the same page. Not because they felt the fiend had any right to their help, but because Lydia's arguments were quite sound. "He wants his freedom for as long as possible. Wishes or no, he needs me alive. Think of him like a guard--"

"Please don't say guarding angel," Adam blurted out with disgust.

"I was going to say guard dog, but yeah," she shrugged, "you get the point." She sighed and continued her campaign. "Look, he hasn't bothered any of us, he didn't really hurt anyone back then--"

Charles jumped out of his seat. "He sent Maxi and Sarah to the hospital!"

Lydia nodded with no remorse. "With bumps, bruises, and maybe a broken bone. They should have died from that stunt. He dropped you on your head from the second floor, dad, and all you got from it was a lump."

Her father rolled his eyes but sat down once more.

Lydia made them swear to not get in the way and to keep up the pretence should they ever be visited by any afterlife authorities. They promised, but it still took days of discussions and reassurance until the subject was finally put to rest.

Several emotional and tumultuous weeks went by, but Lydia managed to get back to her classes and catch up. It was hard for her not to be all consumed with her task of getting to know her husband. There were many moments she almost called on him but instead she would write down what she wished to say and ask. She knew she couldn't talk to him in her dorm or even back home, so she planned a day to go and take pictures alone. She chose, of course, a cemetery.

She found an old headstone, deep in the graveyard, far away from the burial taking place. From her bag, she pulled out a hand mirror and perched it against the stone. After she sat down cross-legged on a blanket, she took out her pen and journal of questions. Lydia fidgeted with her hair, her clothes, her notes and anything else she could think of to procrastinate her plan. When there was nothing else to do, she stared at the mirror and saw her nervous reflection. She called him once. "Betelgeuse?"

There was a moment of silence before she felt her ring finger tingle. "She actually calls first before dragging me outta my business and trappin' me in a mid-dimension?" he replied with surprise. "Finally learnin' some manners, huh?" He drawled with boredom.

Lydia didn't really know what to say to that. "Sorry?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you need now?" He let out a long sigh.

His tone made her want to be swallowed by the grave she sat on. She had only called him whenever she needed something, and it filled her with shame now. "Just wondering if you have some time to, uh, answer some questions? I've been studying for the audit, but it's a lot."

She wondered if the connection had been broken when there was another long silence. She felt his eyes burning into the back of her head before she heard a single sound. Lydia was paralyzed with fright. Somehow he was there. She didn't have to look to know that the looming presence towering behind her was the poltergeist himself. A prickly sensation sprouted on her head traveled down her spine and under her armpits. Her breath came in shallow, and her heart was thumping in her ears. Lydia was stock still when she finally caught some movement in her periphery.

His boots and hem of his trenchcoat were caked in mud as he sauntered before her and kicked the little mirror she had placed on the gravestone aside. With a tired sounding grunt, he plopped down in front of her and rested his back against the marble. He was wearing a cap with the word GUIDE on a placard, and his mossy trenchcoat was much too large for him. Lydia's bug eyes were glued to his wrecked looking face. He looked awful. Well, he always looked dead and grotesque, but she'd never seen him look so drained of life - so to speak.

He sighed deeply and gave her a disappointed shake of his head. "So, all I had to do was some more hero shit for you ta hold up your end of the deal? Wish I woulda known that sooner," he grumbled as he thought about the multitude of ways he could have orchestrated a scenario to appear like her knight in shining armor. Her face barely twitched, and her eyes were still wide as saucers, so he continued. "Do you know what it's like for a dead guy to travel all the way from butt-fuck Hawaii to the Big Apple the old-fashioned way? Huh?!"

Lydia shook her head slowly.

"It's hell," he pronounced matter of factly. "A living. Hell." Betelgeuse opened his coat, exposing a filthy red shirt underneath. He removed a cigarette and brought it to his lips. A quick inhale spontaneously lit his smoke, and he began to puff away. "But ya gotta do what ya gotta do when your wife is too chickenshit to call ya to her, so," he motioned at himself like he was revealing some magic trick, "honey, I'm home," he crooned with barely any emotion. The poltergeist looked annoyed as he studied the short, petrified young woman before him until his eyes landed on her cast. He closed his eyes as if summoning patience, and when he reopened them, he gave Lydia a weird smile while biting his lower lip. "Did he cut out your tongue too?" He asked mockingly.

Lydia finally cleared her parched throat. "Hi."

Betelgeuse scoffed, crossed his exposed ankles, and took one final drag from his smoke before flicking it away. "Before I answer any questions, Imma need a little pick-me-up, from ya."

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked confused.

"I gave you my energy when you needed it, and it took a fuck-ton more to get here, so I'm runnin' a little dry. Give it up. I feel like shit," he grated angrily.

The goth frowned. "How?"

Betelgeuse smirked. "Gonna need ya ta kiss me."

"Fuck no," Lydia blurted out without really meaning to.

The poltergeist shrugged. "Worth a shot." He stuck out his hand. "Handshake outta do it." Lydia stared at his dead hand with dread. "You owe me," he finally said dangerously.

She couldn't argue with that. She grabbed his hand and fell for his trap. Betelgeuse yanked her to him and crushed his lips to hers. Lydia made another grave mistake when she gasped, leaving him an opening for his tongue. Instead of feeling what she thought would be some slimy, cold thing invading her mouth, she felt a warm, tingling sensation journey up from her gut, through her throat and out of her mouth. Betelgeuse released his hold on her lips and inhaled deeply. When he was done, Lydia's mouth clamped shut, and the warm energy recoiled within her solar plexus. Her world tilted, and she grabbed onto Betelgeuse's shoulders to keep her balance. She gasped for air as he held her steady and placed his cool forehead on her warm one.

"Oh yeah," he murmured, "that's the ticket." He smiled with relief and then heard the inevitable smack against his cheek before he felt the sting of her hand. He instinctively released her but chuckled as he rubbed at the pain on his face. "Oooff! That smarts!" He exclaimed excitedly and laughed some more.

"Asshole," Lydia growled while she crawled away from him and wiped at her mouth with her sleeve.

"Aw, thank ya, darlin'," he said sincerely, "that's the first physical sensation I've felt in fuckin' centuries!"

The outraged woman leaned against another headstone for support while her world began to right itself. She glared at the jovial ghost who was still holding a hand to his face reverently. "Yeah?" She bit out spitefully. "Glad I had the pleasure."

Betelgeuse gave her a predatory grin. "Oh, me too, babe. Me too." He chuckled some more when Lydia seemed to pale.

The goth's mouth went slack when she noticed the ghost before her looked less dead than usual. His skin had lost some of its pallor, the black around his eyes lightened, the moss on his face receded, and his hair looked blonder. The effects lasted only a few moments before everything started to slowly go back to how it was before, but for those handfuls of seconds, Lydia had seen the potential of what he may have looked like when he was alive. And she loathed to admit it, but he looked rather handsome. "How," she whispered with awe.

Betelgeuse waved off her astonishment. "Just another perk of a Posthumous marriage, Lyds." He winked at her. Even though he looked very dead once again, he seemed refreshed. "How do _you_ feel?" He asked with curiosity.

Her attention was brought back to her physical wellbeing. The vertigo had passed, and she felt normal. Her angry eyes met his concerned ones. "Disgusted," she finally answered.

A brief look of disappointment glossed over his face before he gave her a smug grin and adjusted the lapels of his coat. "Still got it," he said proudly. He sighed with satisfaction, then summoned her journal to him with a curl of his finger. "Let's see now." He flipped through the pages, and his eyes went wide. "Mother o' tits," she draws porn too?!" He placed a hand to his heart as if shot by cupid's arrow.

Lydia rolled her eyes. She had sketches from her figure drawing class in there and-- "Oh no," she breathed. Lydia launched herself at him while he continued to peruse her pages.

It was too late, he faced the journal in her direction and pointed at a portrait of himself. "Who's this ugly bastard?"

The goth froze on all fours, like a deer in headlights, and she looked from the sketch to his face. She had drawn it from memory, along with many other attempts over the years but it still looked just like him. She was sure he was trying to embarrass her, but the tone of his question was genuine. Lydia almost laughed aloud when she realized he had no idea what he looked like. "No one?" She said with uncertainty, still doubting his motives.

Betelgeuse eyed her blushing cheeks suspiciously but then shrugged his shoulders. "Filthy fucker but very macabre. I like it. Ya got talent, Lyds!"

She yanked the journal from his grasp before he could find more sketches of himself and figure it out. "Yeah, thanks." She was struggling to find her mental footing. The dead man was enraging, but his compliments made her blush with pride. "Okay," she said as she settled at what she thought was a safe distance from him, "the paperwork mentioned you were a Guide." Her eyes snapped to his hat, then back to her questions, "what does that mean?"

He crossed his arms and became all business. "Juno was my boss straight outta training. A Guide is basically a glorified assistant to a Caseworker. Once the souls serve their time on this plane, they hafta crossover and get sorted into the appropriate next plane. I would show them the ropes, give'm the right brochures and handbooks and all that garbage. Very. Repetitive. Boring. Shit."

Lydia jotted down her notes. "What did you do when you were alive?"

"Ah, little o' this, little o' that. Typical renaissance man. 'Cept I died before the renaissance." He snickered.

She continued to grill him and was astonished by his answers and anecdotes. He had dabbled in almost every illegal occupation in the middle ages. His most honest work was that of Carnival Barker, and even then, he did what most wouldn't to lift himself from poverty. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't very good at keeping his money, especially when the Black Death ravaged the streets of London.

"Jesus, you're English," Lydia giggled.

Betelgeuse tilted his head with amusement and stared at her until she composed herself. It was only a short tinkling laugh, but he'd never heard it before and wanted to hear more. "'Avin' a bubble bath at the brown bread's expense while 'e weeps n' wails, eh?" He let out with a lilting cockney accent. It did the trick.

Lydia nearly busted a gut laughing. She wiped at her tears and snickered between words. "I don't know… what you just said… but… coming out of your mouth--" The look on his face cut her off. At first, she thought he was angry, but then she recognized it. Hunger.

Before she could react or break the awkward silence, the ghost broke eye contact and looked to the sky. "Gettin' dark," he uttered with his usual gruff.

"Shit," Lydia checked her watch. There were school obligations she was supposed to attend to before the night was over. "I gotta go." In a blink, Betelgeuse was towering before her. His hand extended to help her up. Her belongings were packing themselves neatly in her bad.

Lydia shook her head. "Not falling for that again," she said as she stood up on her own.

Betelgeuse was not a tall man, but he was half a foot taller than the small goth, so she had to look up to meet his gaze. "What's the rush? Gotta date?" He asked with deep interest.

Lydia tilted her head slowly and studied his reaction. He had a strange, challenging look in his eye. "No, but what do you care?"

He gave her a mirthless smile. "Oh, I care," he murmured seriously. "I'll be keepin' a closer eye on ya from now on. Vettin' the merch before you," his eyes travelled down her form until they reached her broken arm, "pay for it."

"Oh, right," Lydia drawled, "you need me alive."

He gave her wink and waggled a finger at her as he stepped even closer. "You know me so well, don't cha?" He dripped with sarcasm.

His proximity was sending her body into a fight or flight response, and she didn't know which would win out. "Well, I know more about you now than you do about me," she replied condescendingly while rooting her feet to the ground. Fight it was.

Betelgeuse raised his eyebrows and frowned, thoroughly entertained by her ignorance. "Willin' ta bet on that?" He admired her bravery even when their bond told him she was ready to bolt. "I dunno, babe," he said smugly while he raised a hand to her coat, "the fact you've been thoroughly enjoying my gifts tells me I know ya better than ya think." He peeled her coat sideways, enough to expose the spider brooch he had recently given to her.

The blood from Lydia's face drained only to come rushing back up, sending her into a quiet panic. Did he know she was wearing it or did he just guess? She cleared her throat and backed away as she buttoned up her jacket even though it was suddenly too hot. Flight was taking over. "I have to go," she muttered nervously. "Where will you be?"

"Around," he replied cryptically.

By the time she looked up, Betelgeuse was gone.

The next few days were exhausting for the college student. Not only did things take twice as long with only one functional hand, but her mind was heavily preoccupied. She should have been consumed with her classes, but her focus was torn in several directions. Weeks had passed since the domestic incident, but her abusive ex still haunted her dreams at night while her dead husband haunted her days. She wondered where Betelgeuse was. He had mentioned staying close, but she found no evidence of his presence. Still, Lydia found herself stealing glances at dark corners and hallways.

There were other questions she had for him, but some were a bit personal. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answers and, truth be told, she didn't want him as close as he was last time. She had been so unnerved - so off balance - from their previous encounter that she still hadn't recovered. That fact was probably the most unnerving thing of it all. Why did he affect her so profoundly? Why did he seem so different from the ghost she married that fateful day. The more she pondered on it, the more disquieted she became. He wanted something from her, and he was biding his time. It would explain his semi-good behavior and that look of hunger on his face that Lydia could not seem to push from her thoughts.

The kiss flashed in her mind. Lydia didn't have enough time to process that moment or what it had felt like because the sensation of her energy leaving her took the forefront of that little stunt he pulled. Pondering on it now sent a cold shiver down her back. What if that's what he wanted? Her energy. Her life force. Would he - could he drain her completely and live again? The only thing that kept her dread at bay was the fact that he could have done it already. Why hadn't he? The effects of her energy only lasted a few seconds at best. Maybe he knew that draining her all at once would be futile. She needed the handbook. She needed to research. Lydia decided against calling Betelgeuse until she could get some answers.

Over a small break, Lydia went home to Winter River and tried to research discreetly. She didn't want to worry her family over a half baked theory that Betelgeuse was trying to get his life back by sucking hers dry. With three separate handbooks available to her, she was still no closer to an answer. There was one fact in her corner that was flimsy at best.

**Spectral bodies may not be able to affect physical parameters. See intermediate Haunting chapter on page… carnal possession may be harmful to the host and is ill-advised. Although some spectres are able to interfere with the living, the amount of energy necessary to expire a living body would be near impossible to attain.**

_Near impossible_ was not good enough. It meant there was still a sliver of possibility that Betelgeuse could, in fact, kill her. He'd already proven to not only have the know-how but the "near impossible" energy to affect his physical surroundings permanently. True, Maxi and Sarah had survived the crash through their ceiling, and her father only came away with a bump on his head during the snake debacle, but Lydia knew she would be naive to think that Betelgeuse couldn't do more damage. With a frustrated sigh, Lydia slammed the handbook shut. It was time to get her answers from the horse's mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think of this chapter? Think Betel has something up his sleeve? If so, what do you think it is?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I was supposed to NOT work on this fic because I have two gigs this weekend, but since I already memorized my lines... HERE WE GO!

Betelgeuse was right. She was a chicken, and she had chickened out every single time she was about to utter the dreaded B-word, over and over again. The longer she delayed in calling on him, the more she shook in her boots thinking about what diabolical plan he had in mind for her. Those thoughts transformed over the months that continued to go by until they began to take shape in her dreams. The weird and not so amusing thing was, that they were dreams and not nightmares. It was all because of a brief vision of the rat bastard... alive.  She hadn't realized how pretty those blue eyes were until the black that surrounded them receded. She hadn't noticed the angelic blonde hair until the moss and mold had cleared. Or his full heart-shaped lips. Or his manly aquiline nose and sharp-angled eyebrows that just added character to his handsome features.

"Whoah, who's the hottie?" Bertha elbowed her daydreaming friend who was practically drooling over a sketch of a very strikingly handsome man.

Lydia inhaled sharply with a loud hiss through her nose and slammed her sketchbook closed. She blinked away the fog from her mind and smiled at her excited roommate. "Um, no one. One of the, uh, models. From class."

Bertha whistled loud and long. "Well, sign me up, girlfriend! That's no college boy. That is a _man-uh_! Whew!" She fanned herself and laughed freely.

Lydia shook her head as the blood rushed to her cheeks. "He probably won't come back, you know, we get different people, like, all the time." She nodded emphatically to propel her lie. "Plus, he's not that hot. He's got a gut and probably crappy personal hygiene." She knew those things didn't matter to the horndog next to her.

Bertha waved away the negatives. "Nothing like a man's natural musk to get things going down in the undercarriage. And they're called love handles for a reason, Lydia." She gripped the air in front of her as if she was grabbing on to two chunks of fatty flesh and pumped her hips while she grunted obnoxiously.

"Ew!" Lydia smacked her best friend with her sketchbook. "You're worse than a frat boy!" She laughed good-naturedly.

Bertha giggled then plopped down on Lydia's bed. "Too bad you didn't get his digits. You should get back out there! Find a nice guy." The lanky brunette sighed. She knew it was a touchy conversation. "You can't let one bad guy ruin your chance at finding true love."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "True love? What are we, twelve?"

Bertha shot her hands to her heart. "Oh, Lydia, I believe we all have soulmates, you know? I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say!" She seemed ready to implode with idealistic notions, the way she was tightly caved in on herself and squirmed. "Ugh! I can't wait to find my guy." She groaned with despair and stomped her feet with frustration. "He's not here, I can tell ya that! These boys don't know what to do with all this," she motioned at herself from top to bottom. "I bet that guy would know," she pointed at her sketchbook, "it's all in the eyes." She licked her lips and nodded slowly.

Lydia's throat was suddenly parched. "You know, if we were characters in a story, we'd fail the Bechdel test every time," she chuckled nervously.

Bertha scoffed. "Did you catch his name? What's his name? Maybe we can find his info."

Lydia panicked. She was vaguely aware that she had the option to lie again and say she didn't catch his name, but her breath was coming in short, and she wasn't thinking straight. "Bee...j-uh."

"Beejah?"

Lydia shrugged. "Beej?"

Bertha tilted her head and smirked. "Is he _French_?"

"Ha!" Lydia squeaked then tried to fix her story. "I think it was Beej. Or B.J.?"

"I'd give _him_ a B.J," Bertha retorted suggestively.

As the goth purposefully opened her desk drawer to lock away her husband's picture from the nympho in the room, the door to the dorm burst open. _Saved_ , Lydia thought with relief until she realized Prudence came barreling in with her hands covering her face and kicked the door shut behind her. She took two labored breaths and began crying uncontrollably. The two concerned friends rushed to her side immediately.

"What happened?" They cried in unison.

Through her loud sobs, Prudence uttered three horrifying words. "He flunked me!"

Lydia and Bertha exchanged worried glances. Prudence had never failed a class in her entire life, what was more, she'd never received anything less than A's and high scores in her entire school career. After some calming tea and gentle coaxing from her friends, Prudence was able to tell them what had transpired earlier that day.

Her chemistry professor had favored Prudence as his exceptional student and Prudence had developed an innocent crush. This her friends knew already, what they didn't realize was that this professor had begun to touch his student in what seemed to be harmless ways. A touch on the shoulder here. A pat on the back there. A lingering palm on a knee... She didn't think anything of it and actually enjoyed the extra attention, but she never meant to lead him on.

"Honest, I didn't!" Prudence declared through tears and snivelling.

As Lydia tucked in the ginger and curled up beside her, she stroked her hair and whispered encouraging words. "Don't worry, Pru. We'll fix this."

"How?"

Lydia eyed her wedding ring with malicious intent. "Don't worry about it. Go to sleep. We'll figure it out in the morning." But she'd already figured it out, and when both Bertha and Prudence had finally fallen asleep, Lydia snuck off to the women's communal bathroom. She called twice with her palm flat against the mirror.

The lights flickered before her deadly husband's image appeared surrounded by an eerie green glow. His gaze held dark promises, and his grin was wolfish. "Oh, I know that look," he drawled sensually, "someone's gotta wish for vengeance."

"I prefer to call it justice," Lydia replied while staring directly into the eyes that caused excitement more than fear these days.

Betelgeuse listened to the lengthy, sorry story and tried not to roll his eyes. "Ya don't gotta justify anything ta me, babe. Just tell me who ya want me ta juice."

"It's more than just revenge. Prudence needs to pass."

The poltergeist nodded in understanding. "Well, uh, that'll be two wishes then." He shrugged and cleared his throat. "And, I'll need some help."

The goth furrowed her brow in confusion before opening them wide when she realized what he meant. He wanted her energy again. "Why? You never needed it before," she let out nervously.

He scrutinized her and seemed to be weighing his options before he shrugged again and looked away. "They ain't my rules."

"No. I'm not buying that crap again. What aren't you telling me?"

The ghost gnawed on his lower lip. What could he tell her without showing all his cards? He couldn't have her screwing up their contract, but he also couldn't keep walking the tightrope that was his current state of existence. "Alright, look," he levelled with her, "you obviously haven't been studyin' the handbook, so here it is," he looked almost ashamed to say it, "our little bond 's got me on a leash, 'kay? It was all squiggles n' giggles when I first got out because I hoarded my energy while I was under lock and key. But," he let out a sorrowful sigh, "good times are over. I feed off what I can, but my parameters are tied to this," he pointed at his ring finger and then pointed at her, "means I'm tied to you."

A random piece of information came to Lydia's mind. "Spectral parameters. Spectral bodies may not be able to exist on the physical plane without proper spectral parameters in place." She had never really thought about it and just assumed Betelgeuse was beyond those rules. If his parameters were bound to her, then technically he shouldn't have been able to leave her side.  Somehow, he had been able to use the energy he had saved up, which was beyond her comprehension. His exhausted appearance from his last visit made sense now. He was struggling to even exist on the living plane, let alone travel and grant her wishes. It was probably why he had been adamant about a limited amount of wishes in the first place. She looked in the mirror and saw his annoyed countenance. He wasn't used to relying on others, and this made her feel powerful. "Can you kill me?"

Betelgeuse was visibly taken aback. He threw his arms out wide and stomped a heel to the ground. "I thought we were past that bullshit!" He grated.

"I mean," Lydia amended with her hands out in defence, "will you eventually kill me from taking my energy?"

He looked insulted. "Why the fuck would I do that, genius? You die, I go head first to the other side. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars!"

"And they'll lock you up again?" She asked.

"In a manner of speaking," he nodded, "yeah."

"Then what?"

"Jesus, kid, what's with all the questions?! Ya want this teacher dead or what?" He exclaimed with exasperation.

Lydia's eyes bugged out. "Dead?!"

"I mean his career!" His eyes shifted in a super sketchy manner. "Obviously," he added, just in case.

The goth persisted. "What happens to you when I _eventually_ die?"

The ghost dragged both hands down his face and whimpered. "I dunno! I guess I start the process all over again. Find some other broad. Get hitched. You know the rest."

It was Lydia's turn to be insulted. Anger fumed into her eyeballs. "How many times have you done this?!" She growled through clenched teeth as quietly as she could.

"You mean how many times have I tried or how many times it's worked?!" He flailed his arms wildly then caught the look of betrayal in her rage-filled gaze. He changed his tune. "Honey! Sweetums! Babe! Just once! I mean, you. You've been the only one. I swear," he crossed his heart three times fast.

"You lying sack o'--"

"Lydia?"

"Shit!" Lydia spun around to find Bertha standing at the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

Bertha yawned loudly. "Who ya talking to?"

"No one! Myself. I'm just, ugh," she growled, "so mad at that _asshole_ ," she grated and gave a sideways glance to the guilty looking ghost in her mirror.

The brunette yawned again. "I know right?" She walked into one of the stalls. Her loud stream of pee echoed off the tiles. "Dipshit." Betelgeuse and Lydia exchanged an awkward look as Bertha continued to talk over her business. "Hey, maybe we can hook Pru up with that hunk--"

Raven hair swayed back and forth with Lydia's vigorous shake of her head. "No-no-no--"

"In your sketchbook?"

"No. No."

"What his name again? B.J."

_Maybe he didn't hear that._

The current finally stopped. "Beej," she pronounced, loud and clear.

_FUCK._

Carefully and deliberately, Lydia's defeated eyes found her husband who's mouth was quirking upward along with a singular brow.

Bertha continued her damning tirade.  "I can't stop thinking about that sexy grin you drew on him. And that blonde hair and those blue eyes! MMmm. Hubba-hubba. Can I have a copy?"

Lydia felt a twitch in her left eye when Betelgeuse mouthed the words "hubba-hubba" and winked. She wanted death more than any other time in her existentialist life. Bertha chatted away as she exited the stall, washed her hands, and left the room. Lydia didn’t hear a word of any of it, she was actively listening to the roar of blood thundering in her ears. She was mortified.

A light tap on the glass brought her attention back to the smug poltergeist floating languidly with his hands behind his head and a cheshire cat grin plastered on his face. “Earth to Lydia,” he singsonged.

“It’s not what you think,” she droned with a vacant expression.

“Sure. Whatever you say, sugar,” he purred. “Am I doin’ the job or what?”

She’d almost forgotten. “Yeah. Fine. Tomorrow.” Lydia stalked out of the bathroom and before the door closed behind her, she heard a deep, slow chuckle fade into nothing.

* * *

  
  


Morning came and Lydia was already awake when her friends began to stir. It took a great deal of convincing to get her roommates to go on to breakfast without her. She promised them she’d meet up with them soon to discuss Prudence’s options. Reluctantly, they finally left. The college student didn’t want to take any chances so she locked the door and drew the curtains closed before she finally sat on her bed. Facing the devil was becoming more difficult each time.

She shook her head and called once. “Two more times, babe,” his voice whispered from her ring finger. She said his name twice more. The air crackled around her, the wood floors groaned and creaked, and the bed dipped. He was there stretched out on her bed with that angering, smug grin on his stupid face.

“Mornin’, pretty lady,” he called sweetly as he grazed a mossy finger over her exposed forearm. Lydia shifted away from him but didn’t leave her seat. It did not escape his notice. He propped himself up on his side and beckoned her with a slow curl of his sharp-nailed finger. “Your hunk awaits,” he purred, “what are you calling me now? _Beej?_ ” He seemed thoroughly pleased, then puckered his lips.

Lydia made a sound of disgust. She scrutinized his dead face and scowled. “Isn’t there another way?” She whined.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sure there is. Just didn’t think you’d want to skip to home base, but I’m up for it if you are.” His grin was wide and suggestive as he made more room on the small bed and patted the empty space next to him.

“Nope. Not gonna happen. Ever.”

Betelgeuse was not deterred. “You say that now. Don’t sweat it,” he shrugged, “Might surprise ya, but I’m a pretty patient guy.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “After all, I got all the time in the _world_.” He propped himself up again with a new offer. “Ya know,” he drawled enticingly, “we do the nasty once and you’ll never have to touch me again to share your energy. Then again,” he gruffed pompously, “we do it once and you’ll never go lookin’ for it anywhere else either.” He snickered.

His ego knew no bounds. She needed to fix that. Lydia stood up and pulled her sketchbook from her desk, flipped to one of her sketches of his corpse face, and turned it in his direction. “Remember this? The ‘filthy fucker’? That’s you. That’s what you look like.” She waited for his smiling eyes to look at the drawing.

A shadow glossed over his merry features and his smile faded. “Huh.” He recovered quickly, smirked, and snorted. “You still drew me.”  He beckoned her again. “C’mon, we’re wastin’ daylight ‘ere!” He puckered his lips again and made irritating smooching sounds.

 _Fail,_ Lydia thought as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. With a deep sigh, she threw her sketchbook aside and sat on the bed again. “Fine,” she groaned and turned to face the eager ghost.

“Yes!” He cheered and sat up quickly. “Lay it on me, babe!”

The goth closed her eyes hard and leaned forward, fully expecting a rough, hard crush of his lips. She felt his hand gently cradle the back of her head, first. Then he pulled her to him slowly and brushed his cool lips over hers.

“Open up,” he murmured on her tightly pursed mouth.

She did. The kiss was slow and deliberate and completely unnecessary. Lydia was about to push him off when she felt a stirring in her gut. The warm energy uncoiled itself and rose up and out of her. His gentle kiss deepened and grew hungrier while her mind turned foggy and her body became limp. The desire for sleep overcame her and before she knew it, Lydia woke up to her overjoyed roommates.

Bertha ripped the curtains open while Prudence shook her sleeping friend awake. “Lydia!” Bertha cried, “have you been sleeping all day? It’s almost five in the afternoon!”

Prudence looked apologetic. “I knew I kept you up all night. All for nothing too!” She exclaimed excitedly. “I didn’t fail!”

Lydia shot up to sitting. “Really? What happened?”

Prudence shrugged. “I don’t know exactly.”

Bertha plopped down on the bed. “I saw him leaving the campus clinic! Looked like he got into a fight with a barrel of snakes! It was gruesome.” She bounced up and down excitedly.

The three women laughed and Lydia thought she saw a blur of matted blonde hair in her mirror. When she eyed it closer, there was nothing there but their reflections.

* * *

  
  


Finals were done and Lydia went back to Winter River. As usual, Betelgeuse kept to himself, wherever he sleazed around, never once calling on his wife. Again, the only thing that pointed to any kind of disturbance from the ghost was a gift on her birthday. Lydia actually had a dumb smile on her face and wondered what was in the tiny box. Her face fell upon opening it. It was a piece of paper with the words **I-O-U** scrawled on it.

“Mother fucker,” she fumed. She crumpled up the note and threw it away.

After three years of receiving a gift without fail on both her birthday and anniversary, now that Betelgeuse had slurped down her energy like Kool-aid on a summer day, guess he didn’t feel the need to leave her a present. It shouldn’t have _bothered_ her! He meant _nothing_ to her! That was the god-honest _truth_ ! She was just a god-damn _IV_ to the sleazy bastard. That was a _fact_ . And it did not _surprise_ her. No way. Why would it? It was the deal they made. She knew he could not be _trusted_ . She knew she was just a _means_ to an _end_ . One of _many_ probably! She had heard it right from his filthy little _mouth_. That filthy… mouth… that… kissed… so… nice--NO!

“Dirty bastard!” She growled.

It was like saying his name three times apparently because suddenly the dirty bastard appeared, kicking the door to her room open and running straight for her.

“AH!” Lydia shrieked when Betelgeuse wrapped his arms around her, dipped her, and planted his lips on her with a loud _SMACK._

“Oh, honey, I missed you so much!” He peppered her face with loud kisses.

Lydia was stunned and when his lips found hers again, she forgot she had been angry - briefly. While his mouth and tongue conquered her with centuries of expertise, the little wife remembered how he had used her and dumped her, and was probably using her again. Any moment, she expected her energy to drain out of her and she’d maybe wake up in a couple of days if she was lucky. But the moment never came. His lips were still locked on hers and a sliver of hope began to build in her heart even when her brain was gaging in her head. She allowed the disgust she had relied upon to keep her safe from the trickster to slip away and before she knew it, Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with fervor. Why was he so damn good at this? He must have noticed her passionate reciprocation because he straightened up as she clung to him and backed her up against a wall. He had an odd, grave expression pass over his face while he searched her eyes before he attacked her lips once more.

Lydia tore her mouth away to gasp for air and clear her head. She had no idea what was happening. “Wait-what?! No. Get off. You used me!” She scorned half-heartedly.

“What?! What’re ya talking about, babe?” He rasped quickly and hoisted her up with her legs around his waist. “I did what you asked like I always do, who’s usin’ who, huh?” He murmured into her ear, voice deep with need.

“You’re just here to get more juice for whatever the hell you’re up to next!” His mouth was doing all sorts of wonderful things to her neck. He nipped, nibbled and sucked while Lydia began to lose her senses again. She had felt so lonely and betrayed and realized how in denial she had been. This crazed show of affection was confusing but oh-so-nice and it was filling the void she hadn’t known he left her with over and over again.

“Baby, honey, sugarplum,” he uttered between hickeys, “I’m here cuz I missed ya. I gotta surprise for ya in the works, promise. Yer gonna _love_ it.”

It was hot. A little alarm bell was ringing somewhere in her mind. It was ignored. So-so hot and through the heat of the moment, she somehow understood that his I-O-U really was his way of saying he had something else planned that he just couldn’t give her yet. A bewildered smile tugged at her lips and she was kissing him again. Fuck the strange and abrupt change of pace, this was Betelgeuse, it was part of his nature. Plus, it felt so good--

“Ahem.”

The passionate couple snapped their gaze to the door to find two dead people, man and woman, in outdated grey suits, each holding a briefcase handcuffed to their wrists. Their skin was tinted a matching blue and they both sported concrete covered shoes. They floated eerily into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said the woman.

“We’re here for your audit,” added the man.

Lydia’s mouth dropped open at the same time her heart plummeted into her gut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can these end notes stop layering? How do I do that? 
> 
> ANYWAY! WHAT A BASTARD, EH?! Think it was coincidence? Does he mean anything that comes out of his mouth? Sheesh. 
> 
> What'd you think guys? I had FUN drawing that piece up there XD


	4. The Audit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, I have no art for this chapter. I'm sorry. Inspiration is running a little low these days. HOWEVER! If you don't follow me on social media, I have some awesome news. 
> 
> 1\. I've been co-writing a script with a producer and I just submitted the 3rd draft to him and his assistants! So far, they love it! 
> 
> 2\. Someone. A live, real person. Actually PAID me to hold my feature screenplay, the first one I ever wrote, for them to make it. They have a bit of cash to throw down already but have started to look for more possible investors.
> 
> These films may never get made BUT it's a huge validation for me anyway. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Now, did I say that this would be the last chapter? Well, I lied. There will be ONE more chapter. NO MORE AFTER THAT GODAMMIT! Because...   
> 1\. I really need to finish Searlus and the Sailor and 2. The Ineffable Husbands are HAUNTING MY LIFE RN. And I must write a fic for them. I must. I'm going insane with all the scenes and dialogue in my head that are just yelling at me all day, every day.  
> \---
> 
> With ALL that said... I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments!

 

Was it really that surprising? Lydia thought to herself as Betelgeuse emphatically welcomed the unwanted guests with open arms and his best showman grin. It felt like the time she had slammed her face into her grandmother's sliding glass door. First, the crash. Then the confusion. Then the undiluted pain that rushed to her nose and spread to the rest of her shocked body. Except, this time, the pain was in her chest, just below the sternum and right above her churning stomach. She was still leaning against the wall where Betelgeuse had left her. Lydia stared at the three dead people in her room who were chit-chatting about something or other. They were all looking at her, mouthing words she just couldn't seem to grasp.  Nothing made sense and everything seemed so surreal. In moments of huge disappointment throughout her life, such as these, Lydia did what she needed to survive. She shut down. 

* * *

 

Betelgeuse had felt the change immediately in their kiss. What was a jumble of confused emotions warring within the tiny medium as they necked had suddenly merged into one unquestionable feeling - desire. It had felt like the cherished slap in the face she'd given him the first time he planted one on her, but better. Oh-so-much-better. Betelgeuse needed it confirmed with his own eyes, and when he ripped himself away from her to search those beautiful, chocolate-brown peepers, the message was loud and clear. She wanted him. He could have danced a jig that very moment, forgetting for a split second that the afterlife douche bags had just popped in, invisible and floating around, watching them like the little perverts they were. 

God, if this wasn't absolute shit timing, as per usual. His luck was always like that: a whopping success before an epic kick in the nutsack, on a goddamn loop for his entire angering existence. When he played by the rules, he got fucked. When he didn't? Still fucked. What did a ghoul have to do to get a morsel of happiness for once in his fucking afterlife? So, he did what he always did; he picked at the scraps available whenever and however he could, and murmured what he hoped sounded like the truth in Lydia's ear. Because it was. It was all true. Every ounce of his hurried words was true. It wasn't his fault that there was also an unintentionally hidden agenda up his sleeve. Again. That's just how shit rolled when it came to him. One would think he'd get used to it. His stupid informant had taken too long to give him the message that the auditors were on their way. The ghost only had enough time to warn those he thought would give him grief — the chuckleheads collecting dust in the attic and the morons who called themselves Lydia's parents.

When the Afterlife Officials finally made their presence known, the steady flow of Lydia's emotions abruptly cut off. Their bond was the only reason he'd made any progress at all with his little medium. Their rings were the conduit for their souls to be in constant contact. Emotions were the highest, albeit fickle, form of communication for a soul still encased in its physical body and Betelgeuse had steadily scrutinized her emotions for years. Walking on eggshells, keeping his distance, getting to know her, her friends and her lovers. It was a careful and purposeful dance he had finally started to get the hang of. Feeling her gloomy spirit light up just a bit more each time she found his little presents was his confirmation that she was starting to let her guard down. But all of the progress felt like it was going down the shitter with the unexpected growing absence of Lydia's wispy energy.

_ Shit. _ He could fix it. He could fix it. He just needed to get rid of the suits first, and then he could fix it. Pick up where they left off. No problem.

Reluctantly, Betel let go of his once more frigid savior and welcomed the deadbeats as enthusiastically as he could, given the circumstances. The cold emptiness on his ring finger grew ever more apparent with every moment that passed. 

"Oh! Hey there, folks! We're glad yer here! We'd love to get this outta the way and get back to our happy, little married life as quickly as possible."

The two suits nodded in unison. "If there are friends or family around, we'd like to meet with them as well."

"Yep! You came just at the right time. Everyone's home for game night!" He nodded emphatically. 

"That's good. Ms. Deetz, do you have any objections to conducting the audit today, with everyone, maybe someplace we can all gather together?" Asked the stiff.

They all looked at Lydia just standing there with a vacant expression. No response ever came. Betel internally cringed as he gazed into the voids of her eyes. It was worse than he thought. All of the work he'd put into building her trust over the years had been undone with one single, stupid, misunderstanding. A misunderstanding. That's all it was, he told himself. They just had to push through the audit, and he would explain. Lydia was reasonable. She'd understand. A little voice whispered doubts through that entire train of thought.

Betelgeuse stalked to her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and gave her a shake. "She's just a bit nervous! Social anxiety and all that! Right, babe?!"

The goth snapped out of it with a blink and snapped her head up at the fiend next to her. "What?"

The poltergeist pursed his lips and smiled down at his little wife. "They want to see the whole fam, if they're around. I think we'd be more comfortable down in the living room. What do you think, honey?"

Lydia looked from the blue pair to the asshole. "Okay."

"Good," said the woman, "we'll gather everyone available and then get started."

"As you probably know," the man added, "this is a surprise audit. No warnings or trying to brief anyone about us. We will be incorporeal and watching your exchanges."

"You got it, pal." Betelgeuse chuckled and motioned for the auditors to lead the way. When they walked out and turned the corner, he leaned into Lydia's ear and whispered, "I didn't have time ta warn ya, but--"

"Let's just get this over with," she replied dryly.

_ Oh, this is bad _ . Anxiety began to build within in him at an alarming rate as they trudged up the stairs to the attic. If they failed this audit, he was done. Finished. Back to Juno in a handbasket, which would actually be better than the solitary grave he'd been trapped in for over three centuries. Still, that just meant another prison. Not that he wasn’t in one now, but being strapped to a beautiful woman he loved was the prison he intended to stay in for as long as possible. It was the most free he’d felt, dead or alive. He briefly imagined how much more free he’d feel if Lydia someday were to reciprocate those feelings.  _ When. When she reciprocates. _ And he’d make sure she would. In this life, or the afterlife. He had nothing but time.

The door to the attic swung open, revealing a stone-faced Barbara. "I thought I heard you two coming up here. Is it time for our weekly, family, game night?" She asked in a strange tone as if she was reading lines off a script. 

Lydia stood there, eyeing Barbara with a blank expression. "Yes," she replied robotically, then turned on her heel, and stomped past her slightly concerned looking husband. She led the way to the living room and found that her father and Delia were already sitting on the couch, a game of Sorry spread open and ready to play on the coffee table. 

Charles and Delia stared at them with forced smiles. The entire family sat around the table. Betelgeuse, of course, plopping down next to Lydia who had sat on the floor. He snaked an arm around Lydia's waist and gave her a peck on her rigid cheek. "Alright!" He cried excitedly, squashing down the panic. "Highest number goes first. Let's roll."

The goth didn't even flinch. She just reached for the dice and rolled. "Five," she called out.

Barbara took the dice. "Lydia, remember those hideous  _ socks _ you bought accidentally that one time?" She rolled. "Nine," she announced.

Lydia caught her knowing look. She figured out where she was going with that quickly. "Yeah,  _ sure _ ."

The poltergeist bit the inside of his cheek.

"Four," Adam declared after his dice stopped moving. "No point in keeping something you don't  _ want _ ."

Barbara nodded her head slowly. "Still time to  _ return _ them, you know, if you want."

Delia stared at Lydia while taking her turn. "Absolutely. All you have to do is  _ say _ the word - six!"

"And we'll be right there to  _ help _ you do that, pumpkin," Charles added. "Five."

Betelgeuse tugged on his collar and cleared his throat. "I dunno, babe, I think the socks look great on ya." He gave Barbara a terrifying smile then turned to Lydia imploringly. "They've treated ya real good so far. Been a damn  _ godsend, _ if ya ask me!"

Every single one of them stopped and stared at the raven-haired woman expectantly.  She shrugged. "I guess it's too late to return them." Betelgeuse looked relieved. "I'll just chuck them out in the garbage when I can't stand to look at them anymore. Forget they ever existed." She smiled at her petulant, fake husband. "Your turn to roll,  _ babe _ ."

Betelgeuse sucked in his lower lip and bit down hard while he bore into Lydia's dead eyes. With a scoff, he picked up the dice and tossed them on the table without looking. He rolled a double six to spite everyone in the room. "Sorry," he whispered, eyes still locked on his wife's, hoping she caught the double meaning.

The afterlife officials appeared. "Good evening, all. We are Auditors from the Afterlife Marital Affairs office here to review the Postmuthous Marriage or Necrogamy between the Deceased, Betelgeuse Horeson and Living, Lydia Deetz. Do you all have some time to answer questions? 

The group barely seemed phased by the sudden presence of the intruders. They mumbled salutations and their agreement in unison. 

"Let's not waste any time then," the blue woman suggested as the briefcase opened and her partner fished out a survey on a clipboard. "Can everyone here attest to the validity of this marriage?"

Again, the group made grumbled noises of confirmation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Deetz, how have you been getting along with your new son-in-law?"

"Mm? Fine. Just fine," replied Charles after giving Lydia one more questioning look. 

"He takes some getting used to, but we all get along just fine," chirped Delia with a frown.

The man scribbled down the answers as his partner read the next series of questions for the entire room. "Where did they get married? How many people attended? What did the spouse wear? Did you have a reception or any type of celebration? Did they go on a honeymoon? If so, where?"

All of the questions were answered to Betel's satisfaction. After all, he was the one who answered through them.  Barbara was the only one fighting his possession with deadly glares, but in the end, she gave in too. Lydia was quiet and still, actively listening to all of the lies tumbling out of her loved ones as if it all had actually happened the way they described. As the questions continued, Betelgeuse squirmed his way closer to her. He peeled her tight fingers from her fist and entwined their hands, gently rubbing his finger over her thumb, and giving her gentle squeezes of reassurance that she never returned. 

"So, Lydia," the blue woman peered over the clipboard pointedly, "how often do you and Betelgeuse have intercourse?"

Lydia blinked and furrowed her brow with confusion as Betelgeuse leered in her direction. "Is that even really possible?" She answered softly with genuine surprise. 

Betelgeuse wanted a sandworm to crash through the ceiling and eat him. Again. He barked out a laugh instead and brought Lydia into a tight side hug. "Ha! Heh! She-oh-man. She has this  _ really _ dry sense of humor." He chuckled -- "What she means is, is it even possible to count? I mean, we fuck like rabbits, right babe?" He peered down at his afterlife-line with the word PANIC practically branded onto his forehead.

The stoic woman stared back blankly for what seemed like an age before the corner of her mouth quirked into a devilish grin. "You betcha," she said, completely out of character in fluffy and starry-eyed kind of way. "We're so, like, in love. I mean, like, you interrupted our, like, eighth time today!" She giggled and slapped his thigh as hard as she could. "He's a regular Romeo!"

It was a frightening display. Even Betelgeuse was disquieted by it. 

The blue woman smirked mirthlessly and turned to the husband. "Mr. Horeson, when did you realize you were in love with Lydia?"

The crickets could be heard outside as Betelgeuse sat there wide-eyed in desperate thought. "What a-ah-what a question!" He cleared his throat to stall. He felt Lydia's hand glide up his leg. He stared at it for a moment before looking up into Lydia's eyes.

"I bet," she said arrogantly, "it was the first time you laid eyes on me, right babe? You're such a romantic like that," she deadpanned.

The ring began to seep emotion for the first time since the suits had arrived. Betel would have been relieved, save for the fact that it was a sort of cold anger that was wrapped tightly around his ring finger, a smidgen of hurt hidden in its underlying waves. 

"Nope," he gruffed simply with a shrug. He wanted to laugh at her shocked face.  "No," he said again, his voice taking a low and serious tone, "the day I gave ya my left arm." He chuckled in spite of himself. 

Everyone's eyes were glued to the suddenly grim ghost. "Please elaborate, Mr. Horeson," the auditor requested.

"Uh, well, Lyds was dating some douchebag then" he explained, careful to leave out any details that would allude to a specific point in time, "he was a real dipshit..." Betel started to simmer with silent rage.

"Yeah," Lydia added, her features softening suddenly. "I had this deal with Beej. I'd grant him some time on this plane if he granted me some favors. My ex..."

"She was in trouble, so she called me," he interjected quickly, "she didn't have enough time to pull me all the way through so, I gave her what I could."

"A Partial Spectral Particle Transfer for a temporary Carnal Possession?" The blue man asked with genuine surprise. "That must have been painful, Mr. Horeson."

Lydia snapped her head up at the restless ghost next to her.  "Painful?"

He didn't look at her and laughed mirthlessly. "Well, ya know, that's when I knew it. Wouldn't 've done it for anyone else." He gave Lydia a quick sideways glance and winked.  It  _ had _ been painful. He'd been armless for days before he was able to replenish some of the astral energy he had parted with, but there had been a perk. The chunk of his astral body had coursed through Lydia's physical one, granting him a taste, however brief, of her unique and enchanting soul. For a handful of moments, he experienced what it was like to be Lydia Deetz. Kind, witty, talented, and loving, Lydia Deetz. Scared and running for her life. Heartbroken. He already liked the shy dark little creature before, but after that short yet intimate encounter, Betelgeuse was smitten and filled with a desperate longing to protect her. Crazed and out of his ever loving mind with distress, he needed to be by her side ASAP. As if possessed himself, the ghost had crossed the vast distance between them at the risk of destroying himself.  _ But that’s love for ya.  _  He didn't mean for it to occur like it did, and was pretty annoyed with himself when cupid struck. Though he did expect for it to happen eventually - a side effect of being spiritually and empathically linked to someone and all that. The goal had always been his freedom, for as long as her short little life would grant him. Getting her in the sack one day would have been a bonus. Now though, he had different ideas. 

Betel could feel everyone's eyes on him. There were the crickets again. 

"How about you, Lydia. When did you realize you were in love with your husband?" The blue woman showed genuine interest. 

Lydia swallowed hard. "Um, the day..." she searched the gameboard for answers, "he forgot to get me a present for my birthday. We weren't together at the time. It shouldn't have bothered me. But it did. I guess that’s when I knew." She finished with a hurt mumble.

"Hey!" Betelgeuse exclaimed while he gave her another squeeze. "I didn't forget, honey!  _ Remember _ ?" He growled and kissed the top of her head. "It wasn't somethin' I could just drop in front o' ya!" He laughed nervously, hoping the nerds in the room wouldn't pry on what he wanted to keep a surprise.

"What was it?" Her idiot father had to ask.

Betelgeuse sent a glare in his direction, effectively making Chuck squirm in his seat. 

"Yes, what was it?" Asked the now dewy-eyed blue man.

Eyes rolling with annoyance, Betel peered down at a smirking Lydia. "A house," he muttered his confession with a hint of venom. 

The room erupted with incredulous gasps and mumbles. 

The blue woman scoffed. "That's a bit far fetched. And everyone here seems surprised, including your wife."

Betelgeuse raised a hand in defence. "Only because we were supposed to keep it under wraps from all these losers until after the little missus graduated.

"Yeah, that's right," Lydia confirmed with a vigorous nod. "I wanted to be the one to tell them I was moving out. Oh, well. I hope you guys aren't mad." She looked to her family imploringly.

The four guardians exchanged worried glances and talked over one another. "No, of course not." "If it's what you really want." "You can always change your mind." "We just want you to be happy."

The blue woman looked to her partner for back up, but he was drying happy tears from his eyes. She balked at him before turning to Betelgeuse once more. "Well, as long as you acquired it legally? May we see the deed?"

The poltergeist grinned dangerously. "The proper forms have already been submitted. You can check with the Wills and Inheritance department if ya don't believe me."

She huffed and bristled but relented. "Very well. I think we're done here. Come on." She tugged at the handcuffed briefcase attached to her partner.

"Best of luck to you, lovebirds." The blue man sniffed and smiled and then they were gone.

Betelgeuse waited until he was sure the deadbeats had completely left the parameters before sighing with exaggeration and pinching the bridge of his nose. That had been  _ hell _ . He looked up to find the whole room silently glaring at him. Well, except Lydia. She just seemed wary of him altogether. 

"Got somethin' on my face, losers?" He gruffed. They continued to stare with disdain. 

Lydia peeled herself out of her husband's grasp. "I'm sure we all have things to do." She stood up, but the poltergeist had already snatched her wrist.

"We need ta talk," he said gravely. "Alone." 

Barbara placed a hand on Lydia's shoulder. "She's done enough for you."

The goth shrugged out of her godmother's protective grasp. "It's okay. I was actually going to suggest the same thing." She gave Barbara an apologetic look then addressed the rest of the family. "Thank you for respecting my wishes. Hopefully, it's all over now." They muttered some reassuring words and exchanged a hug or two with her while completely ignoring the poltergeist. Lydia eventually made her way to the back door, put on a sweater, and called after her husband. "You coming?"

He shot after her. Betel watched her lock the door behind her. He knew it was cold out by the visible puffs of air coming out of her delicate mouth. She shivered once, then continued down the porch steps with him in tow. Lydia's energy had retreated again, so it was difficult for him to gauge where she was emotionally. All he knew was that she was determined to stay cautious, and it was eating away at him. They walked alongside each other quietly until they reached a small firepit surrounded by outdoor wicker furniture. 

Lydia busied herself with the kindling. She hadn't looked directly at him, and it seemed she wasn't planning to. "Do you think they bought it?"

Betelgeuse plopped down on the wicker sofa, making sure to leave room next to him for Lydia, and discreetly pushing the other seats further back than necessary with a wave of his hand. "Dunno. Not gonna lie, it was a bit of shitshow."

The medium lit the fire and placed a few logs in the pit. She had nothing else to do, so she finally turned. There was brief confusion on her face as she looked for a place to sit. She caught the ghost's smirk and shook her head with a roll of her eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood in place. "I wasn't prepared. You said--"

"I know." He nodded and crossed an ankle over his knee, splaying his arms wide on the backrest casually. "You got questions. Shoot."

Lydia thought deeply but came up empty. "I don't know what to ask."

"How 'bout this?" He cleared his throat and mimicked her voice to perfection, "How much of that was horseshit, you dead prick?"

Lydia smothered a smile, but her lips twitched nonetheless. "That's a good start."

Betelgeuse abruptly stood up and grabbed Lydia by the shoulders. Predictably, she didn't flinch. "Where do ya want me ta start, huh?" He leaned into her ear. "The part where I kissed ya and ya kissed me back?" He murmured then brought his face nose to nose with her. "Or when I told ya I missed ya?" His arms slid down her arms and onto her waist. He brought her in closer, noticing the hitch in her breath. He smiled and concentrated his energy into his touch as he rested his hands on her lower back, fingertips grazing her cute ass. "Or..." he pressed his pelvis into her and whispered into her other ear, "the part where you confessed your undying love for me?"

Lydia rolled her eyes and made to push the bastard away. "I only said--"

"Doesn't matter." He wasn't going to give her a chance to take back anything she had said because he had liked it and would rather believe it. "What does matter is that I meant every word, babe. And ya did kiss me back, very wantonly I might add." He ignored her punch to his chest. "And I did miss ya." He held her tighter when she started to squirm. "And I really did get ya a house." The stomping on his foot ceased.

Lydia looked up to gauge the poltergeist's face. He looked smug but truthful. "How can I believe anything you say?" She asked suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

Betelgeuse sighed dramatically. "I might come across as a lyin', cheatin’, bastard, well, I can be. I am. But! I can prove it to ya!" He let her go long enough to produce a document. “Just made official today.”

Lydia took the paper and read it. It was a notarized Last Will & Testament naming Lydia Deetz as Beneficiary, signed by... “Who’s Ginger Brodeur?”

The ghost grinned wide and proud. “A client.” He was sure this earned him a kiss and leaned in for its inevitability.

Lydia sidestepped out his range, leaving Betelgeuse puckering his lips at the air with his eyes closed. “I just want to be clear here. You’ve been haunting people while you’ve been away? And you conned a house out of some old lady as payment for some bogus service?” She imagined a little, wrinkled old woman, being duped. She balled her free hand into a fist.

The poltergeist waved his hands frantically. “No, no, no. I made a deal with the broad. I scare her greedy, dipshit family of vultures away and she’d leave her favorite house to ‘mon petit  _ amour _ ,’ which means--”

“I know what it means,” Lydia drawled warningly. She made him recount every little detail of how he made the deal until she was completely satisfied. “I guess I can get her side of the story,” she grumbled while she continued to eye the Will suspiciously.

“Sure. Just call me a liar while yer at it.” He adjusted his coat with annoyance. “She’ll croak soon. Then it’s yours. And don’t go feelin’ guilty ‘bout it ‘cause I worked hard for that deal, babe. Honest-ta-gosh work. And  _ no _ , I didn’t  _ hurt _ anyone,” he finished with a grating, mocking whine. He was suddenly excited. “Oh man, yer gonna love it. I just know it. It screams your name, babe. I swear. It’s perfect for us.”

_ Us. _ The fire didn’t do much to protect Lydia from the cold weather, but the ghost’s last words that just tumbled out his mouth so easily flooded her with heat from head to vagina.  _ Fuck, _ Lydia thought as she meandered away from the suddenly overbearing flames. It was an over the top romantic gesture, but to what end? Clearing her throat, Lydia handed the document back to Betelgeuse. She was tempted to say something like “I can’t accept this,” or some other cliche response, but didn’t bother. “I should thank her, I think,” she said instead.

He rolled his eyes and smirked. “God, I love how morbid you are.” He pocketed the Will and dragged her back to him by her coat collar. Betelgeuse turned her around to face him and cupped her cheek in his dead hand. Hesitantly, she peeked up at him under her long lashes, uncertainty in her shifting eyes. He was enthralled. “Let’s do this, Lyds. You ‘n me. For real,” he murmured while he caressed her ring finger with his thumb. “Doesn’t hafta be inconvenient anymore.” The seriousness in his tone almost shocked him. He was bewitched. And he didn’t care. 

“I…” Lydia fought for sanity, “I have school.”

The feeble excuse made him snicker. She was into him but still cautious. “As I said, we can move in after ya graduate. Two more years ain’t nothin’ but a fart in time, honey.” He stroked her cheek gently. “Want me ta woo ya? I’ll woo ya. Woo the panties right off ya.” It was meant to sound romantic and humorous. It was  _ not _ taken that way.

Lydia backpedalled and scowled. “That’s right,” she barked accusingly, “you need the marriage   consummated for an all-access pass to my energy.”

Betelgeuse raised his hands as if bracing himself for a physical attack. “Whoa, whoa--”

“Admit it!”

“Nothin’ I say is gonna convince ya.” He shook his head with disappointment and dropped his arms. “Fine. I got nothin’ but time, babe.” But he wasn’t fine. He needed to go and regroup before his stupid mouth said something he’d regret.

She scoffed. “No, you have as much time as it takes for me to die.”

“Yeah, you weren’t listenin’ the first time either.” He left his cryptic words to hang in the empty space he had occupied.

Lydia watched her own misty breath for what seemed like an eternity. He was gone. His last words echoed over and over in her mind. Something about what he said was important. It held some secret she was blind to but desperate to see.  _ You weren’t listenin’ the first time either.  _ The first time what? When? What did he mean? The questions continued on a loop even when the lights had gone out and she was comfortably tucked under her blankets. It was only when her eyes closed and she slipped into a half-sleep state that the answer came.

_ “...You weren’t listenin’ the first time either…”  _

_ “...Might surprise ya, but I’m a pretty patient guy…”  _

_ “...After all, I got all the time in the world…”  _

_ “...I got nothin’ but time, babe...” _

The realization tore the fogginess of sleep away and Lydia’s eyes burst open. He’d been trying to tell her that time meant nothing when it came to waiting for her. He wasn’t interested in stealing her energy. At least, not since he realized he lo--  _ wanted _ something else. Something he valued more than a bit of power. Lydia shook her head to dispel the hope that began to build in her heart. “It could still be a ruse.”  

_ “...Nothin’ I say is gonna convince ya...” _

A flickering from outside her window caught her eye.

* * *

 

Incorporeal and floating in circles outside the Deetz house, Betelgeuse raged silently. For someone who had lived through countless disappointments, he didn’t really handle them well all that often. He wanted to toss Chuck’s car into his  _ relaxing _ study. He wanted to tear the roof right off the Maitlands  _ homey _ , little attic. Wanted to flush Delia’s  _ pharmacy _ down the john. His anger was so palpable that the street lights flickered erratically until they burst with an echoing pop of sparkling, electric flames and glass.

“Betelgeuse!” Came a harsh feminine whisper. 

The invisible ghost whipped his attention to his unrequited love who’s head was sticking out of her open window. She was staring right at him, not that he was trying too hard to mask his presence, but she was getting better at detecting his whereabouts. He stayed silent, floated closer, and waited to see what she’d do next. 

“I heard you,” she said quietly. “If time is all you got, then…” she sighed, “prove it.” Lydia ducked inside, shut the window, and drew the curtains. 

If he had a mouth, it would have sported a wicked grin.  _ Challenge accepted, little wife. _

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end, people! I have to say, writing two fics without an outline has been... challenging. Very challenging. And as much fun as I had writing this, I am relieved it's over! My arm has been acting up again and I lost my stylus, so again, I apologize for no art... again. 
> 
> This chapter might be a bit rough because I barely did any proofreading. Still, I hope it's fun for you all!

Not once did Betelgeuse pop in on her uninvited, though he kept a close incorporeal proximity for his energy’s sake. The further he stayed away, the more juice it took to stay in a stable state of existence. He fed on what he could while also trying to keep his presence elusive to the deadbeats and the breathers alike. Batteries were the most dependable source, they were always around. And it filled him with sick delight every time Chuck sat with a satisfied sigh in his recliner, feet propped, and Cantonese food on his lap only to find the remote to his beloved television wasn’t working. Again. It also took everything in him not to laugh out loud whenever Delia slid underneath the sheets with her old reliable B.O.B. and discover it lacked its usual vibrancy. He’d lost count at how many replacements she had purchased over the weeks. 

Time went by quickly, as it usually did for the invisible poltergeist, and Lydia soon went back to school. Betelgeuse made sure to leave little gifts for Lydia to stumble upon at any given moment of the day without fail. Nothing too extravagant. Just little things he could move easily, like buttons, pieces of fabric, books, preserved butterflies from the nerds in the Entomology department, and other macabre little trinkets. She finally caught on and he knew he was making progress when she’d started smiling and looking around for him. Still, she would school her features much too soon to give away how much longer he’d be in the dog house for. 

He upped his game when he noticed she was struggling with her new photography class. Lydia never seemed happy with her photos so he’d scour places nearby, then he’d sneak into her dorm and leave a pin on a map with little love notes. 

**A strange place for an unusual gal. -Beej**

**Poe’s got nothin’ on ya or this place. -Beej**

**You raise the dead. Know what I mean? -Beej**

**Sometimes I watch you sleep. -Beej**

Well, he wasn’t perfect, but his little wife was always awed and proud once those negatives were developed. There were also a few hiccups in the wooing plan. Like when Burp and Prude decided to be matchmakers. As usual, Betel would just sizzle in the aether while Lydia continued to peruse her options. Most of the time, the ghost would size up the competition and come away very sure of himself. None of those prissy, boring breathers would be able to catch the attention of his goddess of death. He was certain. 

Then _Prince_ Vince came along and tore his ego to pieces, which never boded well for anyone. The suitor was tall, dark, and handsome. As deathly pale as his lovely wife and just as demure and melancholic. They were a match made in Hades and Betelgeuse shook in his boots when the rich, goth boy with the perfect cheekbones came a hollerin’ not just once or twice, but three fucking times. On their third date, he upped his game to sabotage the evening, but Lydia appeared even happier after every catastrophe. She had smiled and laughed! Betelgeuse was sure he was fucked when the young courter walked her up to her doorstep. They had already kissed. Held hands. _Touched_ in little Victorian Age perverted ways! Nothing compared to what the lecherous ghost would have tried before a first date even began, but _still_. It had been their third date. Everyone knew what the dating rules demanded on date number three! He was in a ripe state of panic while he watched their interaction. She hadn’t slept with anyone since Dave the Douche and was probably ready to move things forward with the skinny brat! When they started making out, his beloved Lydia pressed up against her door, Betelgeuse actually prayed for mercy before ripping the welcome mat from under their feet. What came after was much worse and the deadman wanted to die all over again when he saw the aftermath of his little prank. The matching couple were a tangle of limbs on the floor in a very provocative position. While Romeo apologized, crotch to crotch with Lydia, she only laughed hysterically. A musical sound that Betelgeuse wished had been spurred by his doing under vastly different circumstances. Preferably while his own crotch was accidentally grinding on her. It was over, he thought, as Vince helped Lydia off the ground. They were definitely going to fuck. He tried to be optimistic. At least he’d get another free show and if the gods were merciful, the boy would be quick and leave Lydia wanting as so many others had before him. But none of that happened. Lydia sent Vince away with nothing but a peck on the cheek. Even turning him down when he suggested they go out again. Saying something like “I think we should just be friends.” Betelgeuse couldn’t remember a time he had felt more relieved.

The next day, Betelgeuse heard his name on her perfect lips… three times.

“Happy Anniversary,” Lydia smiled smugly at the slightly surprised ghost. “Did you forget?”

Betelgeuse scoffed. “Never, babes.” She was up to something, he could tell. “Perfect timing actually.” He grinned and waited as she furrowed her brow.

A knock came at the door. Lydia narrowed her eyes at the ghost and walked to the door. Slowly, she opened it. 

A young man smiled brightly at her. “Delivery for Lydia Deetz?”

“That’s me.”

“Sign here please!” 

She signed and the delivery boy rolled out a beautiful, black and tan, vintage bicycle with dark roses in its front basket. Her eyes widened with delight and her small gasp turned into a cough. The young man left leaving Lydia speechless as her new favorite toy glided into her dorm on its own. She closed the door and failed to fight down a smile as she turned to face the ghoul she had summoned. 

Betelgeuse brushed away nothing in particular from his shoulder, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “You know you love it.” 

She couldn’t help it. Her smile grew wide and toothy while her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

The ghost was close to swooning. She’d never smiled at him like that and she had thanked him while doing it. His aetherial heart was bursting at the seams and he wondered if he had ever been so whipped in his entire existence. His handsy nature was itching to close the distance between them and take advantage of their little moment, but Lydia broke the silence.

“I have a wish,” she said apologetically.

The ghoul’s heart shrivelled up back into the prune it once was. He frowned. “Oh.”

“I have this big final project for both my photography and costuming class. I’ve gotten permission to merge the two, but I need your help to finish it.” She twisted her hands in her grasp and cringed a little. 

“Sure.” He replied dryly and averted his eyes. 

Lydia walked to the campus theatre, her husband's gloomy presence ever apparent following behind her. She had reserved the space weeks in advance and been given the key that morning. Another performance for the school's rendition of a Midsummer Night's Dream would not be performed until the next evening. The stage was set up to perfection. The fake woodlands were suddenly more believable and magical when the lighting technician turned on the dramatic stage lights. The tech left the stage and Lydia locked the doors behind her. Betelgeuse materialized on the set when they were finally alone.  


While Lydia silently unpacked the ancient Kodak camera that Betelgeuse had gifted her, the ghost broke the awkward silence by filling it with embarrassing anecdotes about Shakespeare. “...found him drunk off his ass, covered in horse shit and his own vomit that night… he may have been an _okay_ playwright but he was a _garbage_ actor… couldn’t spell for shit either… ya know the curse of Macbeth…?” he thumbed to himself and grinned wickedly, letting out a dark chuckle. 

On any other day, Lydia would have been engrossed with his tales but she was too busy fighting off anxiety. “Be right back. Stay here for a sec,” she told him while she went backstage and entered the costuming classroom. She was a ball of nerves as she changed into her costume and finally walked out to the stage. Betelgeuse had his back turned to her, which gave Lydia a chance to surprise him. “One last thing and we can get started,” she quipped nervously.

Betelgeuse turned around, his eyes bugged out and his mouth fell open. He scoured over her with a hungry gaze, taking in every detail. She was wearing the red spiderweb poncho, the first gift he’d ever given her.  The spider brooch was pinned to her chest. She wore a catsuit underneath that accentuated her feminine legs and her hair was up in how she used to wear it when he first laid eyes on her. 

She trod cautiously in his direction with a closed garment bag in hand. “This is for you. I figured you won’t show up in the photos, but if you wear this…” She left the rest unsaid as she handed him the bag.

Betelgeuse wordlessly took the bag from her and unzipped it. If he had to breathe he would have been in big trouble. He gulped down the sappy ball of emotions lodged in his throat and blinked at his wife, utterly speechless. Inside the bag was a black and white striped suit, the same as the one he sported just before they got hitched. It was dusted with dirt, yellow stains painted in several areas, and some artificial moss was meticulously glued in patches throughout. 

Lydia cleared her throat and looked at her shoes. “If I get an A, I’ll owe you one. I know this kind of toes the line of some rules about having proof of the afterlife but I have a backup story if it’s ever a prob--”

With a snap of his fingers, he was dressed. “Ready when you are.”

She gave him a slow once over and smiled. “You’ll have to juice the camera to take the pictures. Um,” she was suddenly shy, “do you need to, um, refill?” 

He was tempted to take up the offer but decided against it.  It would better his cause to decline. “If you want the invisible man effect, best not.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean, you’d come out - people could see - you can be seen?!” 

The ghost chuckled and took her hands. “It would take a lot but it’s possible.” Her face fell for a moment, which prompted him to dispel her concern. “I’m good on juice, babe, no worries!” He said cheerfully while bringing them to center stage. “Let’s dance.” 

A boombox slid dramatically off stage and, without being plugged in, began to scan for music. A Hard Headed Woman by Elvis Presley blared off the walls. Betelgeuse twirled his woman hard and fast and caught her on the other end, her back pressed firmly into his chest. A loud _SNAP_ sounded off, letting them know the picture had been taken. 

Lydia peered up and glared at him. “Very romantic,” she deadpanned. 

“I thought the song was appropriate.” He laughed before flicking his wrist. 

Static filled the air again before landing on loud trumpeting introduction that commanded attention. A waltz. As soon as the lyrics and strings began, Betelgeuse swayed his dance partner to the rhythm. The voice that came forth, singing in perfect French, most certainly belonged to Édith Piaf. Lydia recognized the memorable voice from her father’s old records, but not its haunting melody. Her limited French helped her make some sense of the words that poured forth with an eerie and mysterious perfection. And as the Sparrow sang about an ancient song that haunts and threatens to drive her mad, Lydia’s own haunter led her in boxed steps in precise timing to the beat. 

“ _Padam, padam, padam!”_

_SNAP!_

The goth was easily enraptured by the elusive poetry of the song, and when she caught her partner's grave expression as he twirled her around gracefully, she wondered what those yearning and nostalgic words meant to him. 

_SNAP!_

Did the musical air also prey on him like a weird mistake, as the singer told? Did the harmony have a name? Because whatever the ancient tune was called, it obviously haunted him too.

“ _Padam, padam, padam!”_

_SNAP!_

A series of left foot and right foot changes became a blur. A forward progression and another _SNAP!_ She had no idea how her feet knew what to do and she didn’t care. Lydia was lost in a dark melodic world that spoke to her soul and rang in her yearning heart. Her feet walked the promenade in matching steps with her ghost as her heart pumped in sync with the final call of the orchestra.

_PADAM. PADAM. PADAM. PADAM. PADAM. PADAM. PAAAAAM--_

When the music abruptly cut off, Lydia was still entranced as she beheld a penetrating gaze belonging to a pair of blue eyes. Her hand found his face, and in the fog of whatever planet she was on, she leaned forward and up. Her half-lidded eyes finally closed when his lips gently pressed against her own. The kiss was unusually soft and tender.

“Lydia,” he whispered longingly-- _SNAP!_

The spell was broken and gone with the final capture from the Kodak, but he continued to hold her. She could tell he was mentally kicking himself as she peeled out of his embrace. 

The college student remembered herself. “I, uh, I have to...to develop these… now.” She swallowed hard. “Thanks for helping me out.”

Betelgeuse closed his eyes and pursed his lips, accepting the defeat of the moment. “Sure. Anytime.” A wave of his hand sent everything packing, his suit included. 

As he began to fade from sight, Lydia spoke again. “And thanks for making my dates with Vince bearable.”

The poltergeist’s heart would have fluttered. He smiled wide as he caught the knowing smirk and glint in her eye before he vanished entirely. The evening, though it did not lead exactly where he hoped it would, was an epic success. 

* * *

It could be infuriating how much Betelegeuse knew her so well. Who would have thought the mouldy ghoul with no manners could be such a romantic? He left her a gift every day. Every god damn day! They were just small little things and that was probably why her gloomy heart lit up the way that it did whenever she came across the tiny surprises. Sometimes it was just little notes. Some notes were weird as hell, but they made her laugh. Oh, and the places he’d send her to! Not only did he make her life easier by taking the scouting our of her busy schedule, but Lydia was always left in awe at the picturesque locations. He had a good eye. That was a hard pill to swallow. Even harder to swallow was knowing why he went through the trouble at all. 

Lydia was torn. She knew what his goal was, or at least she thought she knew. It was a dangerous thing to start thinking about his motives. The easiest and safest thing to believe was that he wanted to consummate the marriage for his carte blanche to her astral body. If she pondered on that too long, it hurt like hell. She’d come to care for him and that was what was tearing her apart. Had she not danced with him that night, she may have been able to just give him what he wanted and cut ties altogether. But she had danced with him and as they danced, she had seen in him something mirrored within her soul. An all-consuming longing for something more. Something just out of reach. Like that song described so pointedly. 

Plus, all of her dates had been huge disappointments. She tried dating older guys to see if that would do the trick but she found them equally boring and inept at understanding her at all. Betelgeuse was dead and yet he had more life in him than any of the zombies she’d given a chance to. He just knew her so well. He understood her. He _showed_ her that he understood her on a level that not even her best friends could ever comprehend. His efforts had been noticed and appreciated. She longed for more. It was too bad it was most likely all an act. 

No, she could not ignore his presence or what his presence did to her any longer. Especially not now as she stood outside the house bequeathed to her by a complete stranger in a small town between Winter River and New York City called Peaceful Pines. Mouth agape and hand at her chest, Lydia let out a misty puff of air. The dusky sky, the barren trees, and the silent falling snow all added to the starkness of the red and black gothic revival house with board and batten sheathing, an oriel window, quatrefoil trim and gingerbread vergeboards that Lydia now owned. Words she would have never known to describe its qualities had her father not been who he was. She damned the ghost once more. It was fucking beautiful and very much to her liking. He was right in that it said her name, but it didn’t scream so much as whispered tantalizingly, welcoming its new mistress and calling her forth. Her feet crunched in the snow as she made her way toward the door that opened of its own accord. Lydia couldn’t bare to soil the interior so she removed her boots. A quick glance around the inside told her the place was probably built in the mid-nineteenth century. Everything was furnished and spotless and the smell of burning wood permeated the air. She could feel eyes on her as she walked through the house, grazing her cold fingers over walls, greeting the house that seemed anxious to meet her as much as she was anxious to meet it. 

A creak echoed down the staircase that led upstairs to the bedrooms. Lydia clenched her left hand and touched her wedding band with her thumb, searching for some reassurance. She could have sworn it tightened a bit on her finger. 

“Hello?” Lydia called out. It had been a few weeks since the previous owner’s funeral and it wouldn’t be strange at all if the old woman was hanging around. 

The standard sentence for the recently deceased was one hundred and twenty-five years in their designated parameters. But no reply came. That was not strange either. Ginger had left Lydia a message along with the deed saying she would be transferred to the first home she had shared with her beloved husband Jaques with the help of the Ghost with the Most. Ginger assured her that the house would be empty and ready for the happy couple once she received the key. God only knew what Betelgeuse had told her. Happy couple indeed. With a sigh, Lydia ascended the stairs. There were four doors, all of them open save for one. She looked through all of the open rooms and was pleased to find two adorable guest rooms that would be perfect for her best friends and one room that was ideal for her work and hobbies. The closed door, she thought correctly, was the master bedroom. 

Lydia opened the door. The rose petals on the floor leading to the bed was a bit much but the black candles and the soft glow of the wood-burning stove was a nice touch. She scoffed aloud and entered. 

“All right, Romeo, where are you hiding?” She crossed her arms and glanced around the room until she found a spot where a shadow seemed out of place. 

“Who says I’m hiding,” came a whisper directly into her ear. 

Lydia shuddered. “Well, come on out then,” she demanded. 

A cool breeze caressed her cheek. “Call me,” he replied again, faintly. 

Lydia didn’t understand him. He popped in and out without being called before and she could not understand why he needed her to summon him if he was already in the room. In fact, he had hardly left her side since the audit. She said his name three times anyway.

Betelgeuse appeared behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her from turning around. He rested his forehead on the back of his wife’s head, more out of sheer exhaustion than any sensual gratification. 

“Ya like it?” He gruffed softly.

The goth felt her heart pick up speed. “It’s beautiful.” She gulped. “Where’s Ginger?”

“Livin’ her happily ever after with her pansy Frenchie,” he murmured. Not an ounce of humor in his voice. He wanted to squeeze her shoulders but it would take too much energy. He hadn’t been able to replenish much after he made sure the house was in perfect condition for her arrival. There was still no power in the house and he’d stranded himself there unintentionally. “Fuck, I thought you’d never get here,” he confessed tiredly. 

Something was off. His touch was cold and wispy at best. Lydia looked down to her shoulder and found his usually solid fingers were translucent. She spun around and grew concerned at once. “You look like a ghost,” she rasped horrified.

His faded figure chuckled. “News flash, babe--”

“What’s wrong with you?! Are you being exorcized or something?!” Lydia began to truly panic when he opened his mouth but his words were late. Like a badly dubbed film.

“Got stuck here with no juice. Been waiting for the fucking power company to get here. Late. Assholes.”

“Holy shit, Beej! Here--” she grabbed onto his face, or she thought she did. Her hands went through him. “Oh my god!”

Again, his mouth opened and words followed a bit after the fact. “Don’t freak out, honey. I’m alright. Just conservin’ energy.”

“Well take some of mine for shit’s sake!”

Betelgeuse frowned and eyed her suspiciously. “Nah. I’m--” He grimaced and his form flickered, laying it on thick. “Yeah okay, sure.” He leaned toward her and she met his mouth eagerly. 

It didn’t take any coaxing at all. As soon as they connected Betelgeuse was flooded with her delicious spark. It coursed through, setting off little fireworks in his astral network and recharged every bit of him from head to toe. He cut off the line before he took too much. He needed her conscious this time. The ghost continued their kiss and was surprised that Lydia was still kissing him back. The poltergeist concentrated the living energy still left in him to the forefront. He wanted to taste those lips this time. He wanted to feel the wetness of her tongue that had just slipped in his mouth. 

Lydia barely noticed the gradual change that took place, her mind was in a warm fog of love. The word _Love_ invaded her mind at the same time a warm, moist tongue tasting slightly salty and reminiscent of cigarette smoke invaded her mouth.She gasped and pulled away. The ghost was no more. Instead was a man. He looked as alive as a dead man could ever get, but still... alive. Her eyes devoured every inch of his face. Betelgeuse pulled her in close, buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply.

“Oh, babe, you smell and taste  _so_ fucking good! Oh my _god_!” His words were choked and full of emotion, then his tongue ran up from the base of her neck to that sensitive patch behind her ear. “You’re amazin’,” he husked there.

The room felt like it was spinning and Lydia clung to him for dear life. Her heart was now pounding in her chest and her breath came in short. He felt great as a ghost, even better with some skin on him. She could feel the stubble on his face scratch on her flesh as he raked his teeth back down to her collar. He growled and thrust his hips forward at the same time he forced her closer. The sharp stab to her groin told her that other _things_ were now alive aswell while a strangled moan indicated he felt every bit as overwhelmed as she. Lydia whimpered in his embrace while they nearly tripped getting to the bed. His mouth was on hers again, fighting for control, wanting to eat her alive it seemed. 

So this was what he wanted. Not just to take her energy to do ghoulish pranks, but to feel _alive_. Lydia knew what that felt like. The need to feel alive and never truly finding it. As elusive as that damned tune the Sparrow had sung about. The one time she was close to catching it was when her world had been turned upsidedown by the ghost she summoned so many years ago. And when they danced. And when they kissed. And now. Definitely now. How could she take that chance away from someone else? She had just discovered she loved him, or finally accepted the truth she knew all along - however it is you want to see it. What was that stupid phrase? Something about if you love someone, let them go? Fine. She’d gift him with the thing he longed for most. No expectations. No strings attached. Because it wasn’t just the right thing to do according to her but the _only_ thing to do. When would she ever feel this alive again?

Lydia’s legs were already spread open and Betelgeuse rammed hard into her warm middle. She broke away from his passionate kiss to look at his face. They were panting, still in a frenzy, with no way of stopping what was obviously coming next. His look was a mixture of pleading and adoration. She hardened her features and nodded slowly, then began to claw at her shirt.

That was it. That was all he needed. Limbs flew in every which way as they tore and ripped at Lydia’s numerous, infuriating winter layers. The second his medium was naked, so was the ghost. He crushed his lips to her, plunged inside her, and stilled only for a moment as the sensations of life peaked and then crashed over and over again with every wild thrust he could manage. It’s not that he wanted or planned for it to be this way for their first time, but there was just no fucking time. He held onto those scraps of energy for as long as he could - and she reciprocated! There would be ample time for foreplay or fucking or lovemaking _after_ this. The little doubt that swam in his mind about whether Lydia would enjoy such a sudden, rough and crazed coupling was drowned out completely by her wanton moans and mewls. They were sounds he knew for damn sure she’d never made in another man’s bed. He’d been there for most if not all of those sorry losers. Her music spurred him on, making him lose all his senses. He could feel. He didn’t have the words to describe just how insanely incredible that fact was. It had a name. What was it again? Pleasure? Life? Love? All of the above, please and thank you! He’d never felt so alive.

Even the sounds he made were ardent and fueled her pleasure. Every grunt, groan and moan made her burn from the inside out. He was a god damn animal and she loved it. Every fucking amazing second of it, and when he caught her breast his mouth, she cried out. And when he swirled his lecherous tongue over her nipple at what seemed like lightning speed, she screamed. She came hard and fast and he never stopped. Just held her tighter like she’d slip away forever if he let up. He pumped into her harder like his afterlife depended on it, because in many ways it did, until he finally spilled inside her and howled into her damp, black tresses.

They were limp and heaving in each other’s arms. Needing to breathe was, admittedly, a bit painful, but Betelgeuse revelled in the feeling nonetheless. He could feel Lydia’s trembling hands begin to caress his back. She dragged her short nails up and down and then into his hair, scratching his scalp in the most delicious way. “Mmm,” he hummed into her neck approvingly. She was so sweet. So warm. Almost too late he realized the old sensation overtaking him was sleep. He snapped his eyes open and hovered above his flushed and sweaty wife. 

His wolfish grin sent her into a soft fit of embarrassed giggles. “There. You happy now?” She hoped he was. Happy enough to stay. Happy enough to--

“Happy enough to do it again,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

So they did. Again. And again. Until they were both figuratively or literally - depending on how you look at it - dead to the world.

* * *

 

Morning came, or afternoon, Lydia wasn’t exactly sure. She didn’t want to open her eyes because she was sure Betelgeuse was long gone. Her heart constricted at the thought. Eventually, she opened her eyes with a decisive snap and peered over to her left side. It was empty. Before she caved in completely to her woe, the sound of running water met her ears along with a grating voice shouting behind a door.

“Holy _shit_ that’s hot!”

Lydia pulled the covers to her face and laughed with relief. He must have heard her because his head came round the crack in the door. He still looked the same as the previous evening. Half alive would be the best description. Or half dead?

“I need some assistance, lovely wife. I wanted to take advantage of the modern plumbin’ here. Set up a nice bath fer ya and maybe fuck in it, but, uh,” steam started to pour out of the bathroom at an alarming rate. He glanced behind him then back to her with wide eyes. “I didn’t realize we had access to the Earth’s core through our pipes.”

Lydia raced off the bed and into his waiting arms. She snickered into his eager lips and adjusted the temperature. The bathtub was large enough for both of them to sit comfortably in it. They didn’t sit comfortably for long though before Betelgeuse’s hands began to wander. Lydia wished she closed the door behind them. The steam was escaping. She wanted the door closed so bad that she flicked her wrist at it. To her shock, it slammed closed. 

“You did that, right?” She asked her husband.  

“Nope. That was all you, babe,” he murmured into her earlobe after giving it a little nibble. “All-access pass goes both ways.” He chuckled and let her simmer on that fact while he submerged and buried his face between her legs. She was crying out in no time. _Damn, I’m good,_ he thought right before she pulled him out of the water by the hair, still shrieking. She was pointing behind him, eyes wide with fear. He spun around to face whatever it was. His fucking informant was hopping up and down and shushing them. “Goddamnit, Donnie! Ya fuckin’ pervert! Get outta here!” He splashed water at the deadbeat, pencil-dick.

“Okay, okay! But they’re comin’, boss! They’re almost here!” He was gone in a blink.

Betelgeuse made a loud sound of disgust. “Damn. Sorry, Lyds.” He really was. “But hey!” He exclaimed excitedly. “At least we’re the real deal now, huh?” He turned and smiled at her. The look on her face was odd. It held hope and skepticism at the same time. He frowned. “We are, right?”

“You tell me,” she challenged. 

“Lydia,” he warned, “the dating other shitbags ended last night. Ya get me? I’m the only shitbag allowed ta show ya a good time from ‘ere on out. M-kay? You’re my _wife_. I’m takin’ this shit serious--” she lunged at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“If you’re lying to me, Betelgeuse, I swear I’ll kill you myself.” She kissed him with furious passion and tore herself away before he could react. He seemed pleasantly bewildered. “I have an idea to get these a-holes off our backs for good.” Her eyes held evil promises.

* * *

  


“I’m telling you, Guy, the marriage is a farce.” Angry, concrete heels tapped on the checkered, twisted floors alongside her sappy partner.

“I don’t think so, Tricia,” Guy challenged as he tried to keep up with her fast steps. “They seemed really in love to me.”

“You always think that! That guy is scum. I’ve made inquiries. He’s a conman.”

“Maybe love changed him! How romantic!”

Tricia whirled on her partner and glared at him. “That’s unrealistic, romantic hogwash, you simpleton. It belongs in _fiction_ , not _reality_!” She spun around again and opened the door to the new residence of the falsely married couple. 

She expected to find the Deetz woman alone, maybe having an affair, or maybe just an empty shell of a house with no proof that the filthy liars lived there. But that’s not at all what the auditors found. No. No, no, it was much worse. They had entered through the kitchen area, you see, and well, had absolutely no clue of what to immediately make of the situation before them. The proclaimed wife was dressed head to foot in leather with a riding crop in hand and a strap on that was hilt deep into a hogtied and gagged Betelgeuse, who was flat on his back on their kitchen table. The proclaimed husband seemed very _happy_ with his current predicament. 

A feminine shriek rang out of the blue man while the blue woman could not for the afterlife of her rip her gaze away from the trainwreck before her. “I-uh-oh-well-I--”

“WE’RE SO-so-so-SO SORRY!” Guy screamed and tugged at the briefcase chained to his partner who was still fishing for words. “We’ll come back another time - TRISH for god’s sake! Or maybe never! Ever. Ever again.” He finally managed to drag his partner back through the portal and then they were gone.  


Betelgeuse’s cackle was muffled by his gag. Lydia chuckled. It was mortifying but it did the trick. She hadn’t intended to actually go in all the way but he insisted they needed to “sell it.” She was almost regretting having to pull out so soon because she had always wanted to try this sort of thing and it was feeling damn empowering. As she started to slide out slowly, she heard a desperate moan. She looked at her victim who was shaking his head and whose eyes were pleading. 

Lydia grinned wickedly. “Oh, you _want_ this?” She pushed in a bit deeper. His strangled groan was titillating. He nodded just to make sure she got the message. The man kept surprising her at every turn. She smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek. “You know, Beej. I think this marriage has a chance. What do you think?”

He nodded reverently. 

She felt emboldened and powerful. “If you fuck it up,” she crooned, “I’ll fuck _you_ up. Understood?” She gave a small thrust that sent his eyes rolling back…

It was an unconventional love story and an equally unique relationship, to say the least, but that’s the way things roll when the strange and unusual of this world meet. Sometimes things are too weird, sometimes not weird enough, and other times, like for this peculiar pair, it’s just weirdly perfect. Not that they didn’t have their ups and downs, every relationship has those, but they were perfect for _each other_ in _every_ way. And _no one_ could say otherwise. But even if they could, this couple didn’t care a _rats ass_ about what _others_ thought or said and neither should you.

 

_THE END._

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU so much for joining me on this journey! I really do hope you enjoyed the story. 
> 
> What's next? Well... I still need to finish Searlus and the Sailor (which I have no inspiration for at this time but I hate leaving things unfinished). I will be diving into Good Omens. There will be an outline this time and lots of research. You know me... I like to keep things as canon as possible. I have some theories I'm super excited about. Hehehehe, to the only person who knows what I'm talking about: WINK WINK. 
> 
> If you liked this story, you might like my older Beetlejuice series [NEITHER HERE NOR THERE](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1318958). I will say, I was still getting the hang of "Novel Writing" at the time. You've been warned! But it's still a solid plot with a big focus on keeping the characters authentic. I have a few other drabbles as well! 
> 
> I hope to see you on IG or tumblr or on the Beetle Babes discord. Have a great weekend everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Want to buy me a hot cocoa? [https://ko-fi.com/mordellestories](Click%20Here)
> 
> Want early access to all my work including this one? Go to my [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/mordellestories/) and comment on any post with "add me!"
> 
> [Here's my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mordellestories)!
> 
> Read my other fanfic here: 
> 
> [Good Omens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordelle/works?fandom_id=27251507)
> 
> [Beetlejuice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordelle/works?fandom_id=2763282)
> 
> [Beauty and the Beast ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483799/chapters/43797364)


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